The Hidden Danger
by ghost company
Summary: They say that the best laid plans rarely survive first contact with the enemy. Men like Admiral Thrawn and Thel Vadamee know this well. However, when deep space raids force a war that no one wanted, each person will discover just how true this saying really is.
1. chapter 1

**Hello everyone! Long time no speak. Well, I am finally doing it. I am tackling the plot bunny that has been nibbling at me for a while. It finally decided to viciously attack me, so I am writing this story.**

 **Warning: This is set in the new star wars canon, and in Halo CE. Events, characters and ships will be presented accordingly.** **That said, as always, I would love to know what you all think. Do you want to see more? Should I scrap the idea? what's your thoughts.**

 **On a related note, I decided to clean house. I took down the stories that I am no longer working on. If it was one you were enjoying, I'm sorry. If not, well then I doubt it will hurt your feelings. :) Among the survivors are "Rise of the Darkness (Take 2)" and "Dance With the Devil" (Trust me, I did not go through 25 chapters of writing hell just to delete it.).**

 **Anyways, I think that was all I had to say. So without further ado, I give you chapter 1...**

* * *

The ship was cold. The Lieutenant shivered as his breath trailed out into the blackened corridor. The sound of boots thumping against the durasteel floor was the only sound heard as he lead the troopers down the passage. Work lights illuminated blood painted walls as the squad stepped over and around the mutilated bodies.

"That's not blaster scoring," mumbled one of the men as he examined a blackened spot on the wall.

"That would work with the aliens we've found," agreed the Lieutenant.

At that moment, their lights revealed the twisted remains of the door leading into the bridge. Everyone ducked under the door and fanned out with raised blasters. The squad had just established that the bridge was empty when the lights clicked on. The young officer blinked away the spots in his eyes as he examined the mess.

"This is Unit 1 to Command, bridge is secure and lights are back up," the Lieutenant reported.

"Roger, what do you see?" the Captain quizzed.

"Signs of an extended firefight. We've got bodies trailing from the hanger all the way up. Still waiting to hear from Unit 2," the Lieutenant answered as he paced from station to station.

Right as he finished, one of the other Naval Troopers approached him.

"Unit 2 called in. The backup Generator is shotty. They figure there's about five minutes of power left. Life support is effectively gone. The oxygen isn't recycling and temperature control is failing," the man reported.

"Command, life support is shot. I suggest we get this into a yard for further investigation…" the Lieutenant let out a sigh as he kicked the short, stumpy creature at his feet, "ISB will hand our heads to the Emperor if they don't see this."

There was a moment of silence as the Commanders on the other end seemed to consider his suggestion. Finally, a different voice answered… One he didn't hear too often.

"Understood. Pull back to the Chimerea. I'll call in for an Interdictor," the Admiral ordered.

"Yes sir."

 **(Mandalore Docking station: 24 hours later)**

"They were Mandalorian this time. One way or another, there's going to be blood," Gar Saxon declared through a clenched jaw.

Next to him, Admiral Thrawn simply nodded as he watched Stormtroopers escort the bodies off of the freighter. One by one, the hover stretchers glided through the doorway. On top of them were sheets that attempted to provide some dignity for the dead.

"You're right, but it will be on our timing- not yours," Thrawn finally answered as he continued to watch the stretchers glide by.

The stone faced governor went to answer, but was interrupted as an Imperial agent appeared in the doorway. The towering human waved them in as the last stretcher exited in front of him. In response, the two men followed him inside. Although Gar's white and red armor kept him warm, Thrawn and the agent had no such luxury. While they had been able to cycle in oxygen, work lights powered off the station had to be used, and the temperature remained below freezing.

"So, Agent Kallus, what can you tell us?" Thrawn quizzed as he stepped through the airlock.

"Same freaks. Same MO. They breached the hanger, and swept deck by deck. Gouging in the outer armor suggests that concentrated plasma bursts were used to shut down the core reactor," Kallus began as he rubbed his arms.

"No survivors," added Gar as his eyes drifted from blood splatter to blood splatter.

"No," The ISB Agent confirmed, "From the look of things, whomever this is, totally gutted engineering. However, taking the ship cost them."

"I'd expect nothing less," the Mandalorian declared.

"How many were killed?" Thrawn quizzed.

"Fifteen… mostly on the push to the bridge," Kallus explained as he stroked his sideburns.

"Given that this is a crew of thirty two, you should be proud of your people," Admiral Thrawn complimented as he turned to the Governor.

Gar Saxon simply nodded as he continued taking in the mess they were walking through. For the next hour and a half, the trio continued to survey the interior of the transport. To say that the ship had seen action was an understatement. Black scoring, dented walls, and various colors of blood made it clear that the crew had fought for every bulkhead, hatch, and maintenance corridor in the ship. However, it did little to provide clues about the attackers. Much of what they had currently was speculation. Kallus speculated that they weren't using a conventional type of blaster. Kallus speculated that they had underestimated the crew they were up against, and he speculated that the attacks were building up to a dangerous end game- a conclusion that Thrawn and Gar Saxon both shared.

Once they were done, Thrawn made his way back to the Chimera with a side trip to the medical bay. A quick talk with the doctors made it clear that he had wasted a trip and thus retired to his quarters with orders to bring samples of the foreign armor to him as soon as possible.

It was three hours later when his comm link chimed. Within ten minutes of that, he was in a conference room again. The room was a large space dominated by grey walls and a solid wood table. Though it was sufficient to hold the Chimerea's entire command staff, at this time it was only occupied by three humans and one blue skinned Admiral.

As he took his seat at the front of the table, Grand Admiral Thrawn studied the three men sitting to the sides. The one closest to him on his left was Commander Jade Corso. At 6'2" with weathered features and salt and pepper hair, Jade definitely looked the part of a Stormtrooper Commander.

Next to him was the younger, though equally imposing, Agent Kallus. The man was young compared to the others, but he had earned his stripes. Hence, why he was the lead investigator in this matter.

Across from them was Gar Saxon, the Mandalorian that ran this sector. Whatever happened next was going to have to go through him and his band of marauders

"Gentlemen, welcome. I have a meeting to update the Emperor soon. For everyone's sake, I trust that this meeting is productive," Thrawn began, "First let's start with Agent Kallus. Perhaps you would like to review the situation for the Commander and I."

"Certainly. Four weeks ago, an Aquience-Class light cruiser left the Yaga Minor shipyards. She was leaving for a border region patrol. She reported in once at Ord Mantell, and one at the Alpha 1 listening post. Two and a half weeks ago, she failed to report in. Four days later, Viper probes found her wreckage-" the Agent produced a holomap with various red dots, "She had been boarded and all hands were lost. In that four day span, we lost another light cruiser, two Dreadnought-Class ships, and one Freighter. Three days later, we lost another cruiser. This one disappeared near Yavin 4. At the same time, our missing freighter turned up near Mygeeto, while one of the Dreadnaughts turned up near Muunilinst," Agent Kallus explained.

Thrawn nodded in understanding as he connected the pieces.

"And when the Mandalorian transport disappeared, you called me," he concluded.

"Yes, Admiral. I'm sure you know the rest."

"I do. We're still missing two other transports plus the ones from before I was called," Admiral Thrawn confirmed before moving on, "Now that I am up to speed, let us continue. Governor Saxon, I'm sure that your people will want vengeance. However, I must warn you that having clans arm up without authorization will not end well."

Fire raged in the man's eyes as he answered, "Those clans will want blood, and there's not enough Commandos to hold them back… Frankly, I doubt they will even try. I know of at least one Commando who's directly affected."

"I understand. However, we must ensure that we are not undermining the Empire's authority in the process of seeking retribution," Thrawn conceded.

Gar Saxon shook his head. It was clear that Admiral Thrawn wasn't giving him a satisfactory answer.

"Then what do you want me to do," he quizzed.

" Pull the clans together. Work out the politics, and be ready to move," Thrawn ordered, "When the time comes, I need to know I can rely on your people."

"That will be easier said than done," Saxon retorted as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I don't need the whole population, just a handful of determined troops," the Admiral countered, "Now, Commander Corso, I understand that you have something to report."

"Yes, sir. I just arrived from the medical bay," Commander Corso answered as he passed over a datapad, "They have finished a preliminary overview of the the bodies. There were two different races-"

"I know them," Thrawn cut in as he examined the images, "I had really hoped this day wouldn't come."

"You do?" Agent Kallus quizzed with narrowed eyes.

"Sort of. There were stories of ships that would disappear. Those that were found, were gutted like this. If bodies were found, they looked like these. Supposedly, there was one man who made it back, but no one could understand his mad ravings. Up until now, these were considered old spacer's tails... not to be believed. It was even rumored that the Navy planted the story to keep people from exploring the far edges of the Unknown Region. However, this, proves them as fact," Thrawn explained before moving on, "Now, Commander, what do you have?"

Despite the worried looks being traded across the room, Corso began explaining, "Stumpy, there, had your standard level of body armor, with a methane tank on back, hence the pointed silhouette. The bird-like ones had lighter body armor, but kind of module clutched in their hands. Again, techs are trying to find more details, but most of the internal pieces were fried in the battle. They don't think anything of use can be found."

As Commander Corso finished, the room fell into a moment of silence. All four people just sat there considering what they had heard. The information was enlightening, but woefully incomplete. Of this, everyone was convinced. On top of this, Thrawn was already crafting his recommendations for the Emperor, and they weren't pretty.

"Your conclusions, Commander?" Gar Saxon finally asked.

"I don't know exactly. The plating isn't your standard plasteel. It's lighter, but it looks like it handled blasters all the same. These people are going to be lighter on their feet. Also, they weren't using lasers. The medical team determined that the damage was from concentrated plasma. The weapons were missing so, we don't know more than that. However, judging off known weapons with similar ammunition, these should have a shorter range but higher kinetic energy," the Commander answered.

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that they won't have the effective range of a standard blaster. However, if you get hit, you aren't getting back up," the Commander summarized.

By this point, Thrawn had mentally drafted his orders and deftly cut into the conversation.

Keep me informed of what they find," Admiral Thrawn ordered, "Agent Kallus, start dispersing deep space probes. I want the hyperspace lanes swept clean. If we don't get ahead of these raids, they're going to get worse. As we get the resources, I'll begin deploying a dragnet. In the meantime, start mining the hyperspace lanes. Have the ships pull out at random points along the lanes and deploy these mines. The ships in question will be large. Don't be sparing on the number of mines."

"Admiral, this is going to take a lot of ships, more than we have in these sectors," Agent Kallus warned.

"I'm sure I can find ships to help in this," Saxon offered in response.

Agent Kallus accepted the offer with a nodd, as Thrawn added in, "I will get you your ships. For now, work with what you have."

"Yes sir."

Content with what they had discussed, Admiral Thrawn stood up and dismissed the group as he smoothed out his bleach white uniform.

"Kallus. Saxon," he called as the two went to exit behind Corso.

The two gave Admiral Thrawn curious looks as he waved them over.

"Gentlemen, these ships are quite large. Cruisers and Dreadnaughts will not be able to face them. If you come across an unidentified ship. Do not attempt contact. Do not attempt to engage. All ships are to find the first clear vector and jump clear," Admiral Thrawn ordered.

"So, our battle plan is to run?" Gar Saxon baulked.

"Hardly. The Captains' are to report sightings to Fleet Command. We'll take it from there," Thrawn answered.

The knowing line made by his lips wasn't a smile but it did promise an answer to the incursions. Gar and Kallus both nodded in understanding. After dismissing the Mandalorian governor, Thrawn addressed the ISB agent.

"Agent Kallus, you are being reassigned to the Chimerea," Thrawn declared, "I need someone smart who knows this case. Will that be a problem?"

"No, sir."

"Good. Dismissed," he concluded.

Over the next few days things began to move rapidly. Thrawn made his recommendations two hours after the meeting. Soon after, that side of the galaxy flooded with Imperial warships of all classes. All but the most crucial hyperspace lanes were closed as battle groups began flooding the space with Viper probe droids and deep space mines.

 **(Phoenix staging area: 1 week later)**

Commander Sato felt himself age more and more as he stared at the numbers on the datapad. Through one correction point in one day, the Ghost had tracked twelve Imperial-Class warships, twenty Aquience-Class cruisers, six Interdictors, three of the old Venature-Class warships, and at least thirty supply ships of varying tonnage… And that was just one breakout point.

Sato shook his head as he walked over to refill his mug of caf. As he swiped over to the next checkpoint's numbers, he started mentally drafting his briefing for later.

 _How do you explain that the Imperials are reshuffling their entire military our direction?_ He asked himself as he continued reading.

By the time Sato was onto the third report, he was so engrossed in the shear scale of what he was seeing, that he barely heard the war room doors snap open. Looking up, he was greeted with Sabine and her rainbow colored armor. He subtly let out a calming breath as he spotted the fire in her eyes. This was going to be an unpleasant conversation.

"What is it, Wren?" he questioned.

"I think I know why the Imperials are coming this way, and it isn't us," she answered as she inserted an item into the viewscreen along the right side wall.

Curious now, Sato simply raised his eyebrows as Agent Kallus materialized on screen. Commander Sato remained silent as the blonde haired ISB agent explained a series of raids that had been happening over the past few weeks. As Kallus described the attacks, he was replaced by images of wrecked ship hulls. What were once sleek, dagger shaped hulls, were now masses of twisted durasteel marked with black scoring and burned out holes.

"...Now, for many of you this is rightfully horrifying-" Agent Kallus visibly swallowed his temper before continuing, "For many others. This doesn't matter… but what I show next should matter. A lot. Eight days ago, the Winter's Eve was found adrift by the ISD Chimerea. This is what was rescue teams discovered…"

He was now replaced by pale lit images of bloodied walkways, and a bridge littered with bodies. Some were some against walls or sprawled out on the ground, while others were in pieces around the scorch marks of a grenade. Others had their armor dented as though they had been killed by a blunt object, though Sato couldn't imagine what. Although, many were aliens that neither Commander Sato or Sabine Wren recognized, the dead crew was distinctly Mandalorian.

As Agent Kallus gave the numbers for how many were killed, Commander Sato did the internal math.

"All hands," he muttered.

Sabine simply nodded as an identifying image of each dead Mandalorian replaced those from the scene. Her gauntlets strained under the pressure as she clenched her fists even tighter. Ignoring this, Commander Sato listened intently as Kallus spelled out what this all meant for Imperial citizens. To make a long explanation short, a third of Imperial space just got put under martial law or something just above. Of course, it had to be the third they were operating in. This was just sinking in when the conclusion caught his attention.

"... Make no mistake, a final solution is coming. These _creatures_ -" Kallus scowled as though swallowing a bitter pill, "will answer for what they've done. As always, if you wish to be part of this change, I encourage you to speak with your nearest recruiter. The Imperial military is always looking for the brave and the willing. However, this time it comes with a note. If you are Mandalorian and watching, you have two options. For those wishing to fight: Speak with the leader of your clan, or speak with Viceroy Saxon. A special task force is being assembled. If you are not looking to fight, stay out. By special decree, penalties for trespassing and interference have changed. If caught in restricted areas without authorization. Security teams will shoot on sight. There will be no arrest or trial. You. Will. Die... "

As the message came to an end, Commander Sato turned to Sabine.

"'Special task force', what does that mean?" he asked.

The worry lines in his face grew more pronounced as he spoke. Sabine shook her head as she considered it.

"Saxon could be trying to unite the clans under him. An all Mandalorian crew killed by a third party would give him the excuse to make an attempt," she answered with a shrug.

Commander Sato took a gulp from his mug of caf, before following up.

"What would this mean for us?" he quizzed.

"Short term, nothing. A united Mandalore would be quite the risk for the Empire. Chances are, they would hold Saxon's feet to the fire on this. He will have to help them stop this issue," she explained, "Also, I recognized some of the faces. Unfortunately for Saxon and Kallus's efforts, some of these clans don't have much reason to like him. Any unification will be done grudgingly and temporarily."

"So, long term, that means nothing to us," he confirmed.

"For you and the fleet, no. For me, I don't know," Sabine clarified.

"Why?"

Sabine's voice lowered as she answered, "One of those men was a cousin."

With that declaration, Sato watched one single tear fall from her stoic face. Out of respect, he gave Sabine a moment before making his next request.

"Later at the briefing, I will need you to explain to them what you told me," the Commander stated.

There was a second of hesitation. The Commander was about to press the matter, when she answered.

"I can do it," she agreed with an uneasy nod.

"Good."

"Is there anything else," Sabine asked as she moved for the blast door.

"No, but I need to know where you stand by the end of this rotation," Sato concluded.

"Of course."

With that, Sabine disappeared into the corridor. This left Commander Sato alone with his exceedingly troubled thoughts.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey everyone! Well, in record time, here's the second chapter. I've been down sick, and that first chapter got the best response I've ever had. So, I used my time to write up and edit the second one. Unfortunately, I won't be able to update this fast often. However, I was more than a little excited about this story. Anyways, I did some things that are new to me and would love to know what you all think.**

 **Well, think that's all I have. Hope you all enjoy. Without further ado, I give you chapter 2...**

* * *

Kanan let out a yawn as he made his way down the corridor. Last night made day three of little to no sleep. Every time he closed his eyes he saw things, things that were as horrifying as they were unexplainable. Judging by the dazed look Ezra was currently wearing, Kanan was sure that he wasn't the only one seeing these things. After a short trip, the Ghost crew made their way onto the bridge of the Corvette.

Waiting for the seven person crew was Commander Sato. Just like the two force users, the Commander looked every bit as old as he felt. The sudden flood of Imperial resources was seriously taking its toll on him. Over the past several days, the fleet was constantly forced to move do to the appearance of Imperial patrols. It didn't seem to matter how far off the beaten path they got, the Imperials always showed up. On top of that, they were constantly breaking out into minefields big enough and densely packed enough to destroy the whole fleet.

"Commander," Kanan acknowledged as they stepped in.

"Welcome. This morning's going to be long so let me make this quick," Sato began as he pressed buttons on the holotable, "Yesterday we lost touch with the Liberator. They had been running scouting ops in the Yavin 4 system and were returning home."

As he finished, an image of the ship appeared on screen. It was the same model as their flagship with a narrow profile the flared out toward the rear thruster pack. Part of it was the shape of the base model and part of it was to fit extra armor on top of the narrow maintenance hangar that had been modified in.

"So, you want us go find out what happened to them?" Hera, the twi'lek pilot, asked.

"No. We've been tracking the Liberator since we noticed her missing. She should be here within the hour," Commander Sato corrected.

"Here?" cut in Ezra.

The worry was clear in his question.

"Yes. _Here_ ," the Commander confirmed with a frown, "I will pull back the squadron. I need your team to board and find out what happened to the ship."

"Maybe long range communications were knocked out in a fight. We know the area is crawling with Imperials," Rex suggested.

"Perhaps. Either way, they'll need help. We will hail them when they arrive, but I still want you guys ready to go," Commander Sato conceded.

"Understood. We'll get ready," Hera agreed as she glanced from person to person.

"Good. I'll leave you to it, then."

With that, the group acknowledged their dismissal and left to get the Ghost ready.

"I think all this activity's making the Commander jumpy," Zeb commented.

"He's not the only one," Ezra answered as he selected a new blaster pack from his belt.

The purple skinned Lassat found himself simply looking at Ezra as he tried to come up with a suitable response. Unable to find one, he let out a grunt of agreement and disappeared into the Ghost's nose turret.

Ezra was about to go his own way when Kanan pulled him aside.

"How're you doing?" the older Jedi asked as he cast a glance over Ezra's shoulder.

Ezra's face twisted into a frown as he considered the question. Clearly, Kanan was worried.

"I'm alright," he finally answered dismissively.

"No your not."

Ezra blinked in surprise at the answer. However, surprise quickly turned to annoyance as he stepped back.

"Why did you bother asking, then?" Ezra demanded.

Kanan let out a annoyed sigh. He should have known better than to try that approach.

"Ok. Let me ask this. Are you sleeping at all?" he quizzed before adding a warning, "We aren't leaving until you are honest."

Ezra considered his options. The look on Kanan's face coupled with a quick probe in the force told him that his teacher wasn't bluffing. As a response, Ezra rolled his eyes and told the truth.

"No. Every time I close my eyes, I see things… things… I don't know," he finally conceded.

"Burning worlds? Dead people? A ring, maybe?" Kanan guessed.

Ezra's eyes narrowed in both thought and suspicion as he searched through his memory.

"Ya… How did-"

Kanan's force aurora lit up with understanding as he answered, "I've been having similar dreams. Something's coming and I don't think-"

"Hey!" Sabine called from the hatchway, "Get in here. The Liberator just arrived, and it's ugly."

Kanan ended things with a look that said the conversation wasn't over.

"We're coming," he answered back as he motioned Ezra to take the lead.

As the two made their way into the cabin, both Kanan and Ezra pulled up short. Everyone except Hera and chopper were sitting there. Sabine and Zeb were sitting around the narrow table, while Rex leaned against the opposite wall.

"What's going on?" Kanan quizzed.

"Guns are non-existent and shields are down. None of the ships are tracking anyone else incoming," Rex explained.

"Ready or not, we're leaving," Hera announced from the cockpit.

At that moment there was a metallic _thump_ followed by muffled roar as the Ghost left her docking clamp.

"I see," Kanan accepted as he disappeared into the cockpit.

"How bad is it?" he asked as he dropped into the copilot's seat.

"Take a look for yourself," Hera responded as she pointed out the viewport.

Tracing her finger with his eyes, Kanan found the ship in question. The battered hull held a pale glow in the light of the system's nearby sun. As the got closer Kanan could see what the clone was talking about. Both the medium guns and point defense guns were replaced by craters, while blaster scoring marked up the white hull like the over spray of a black paint can.

"I see why the shields are down," Kanan observed as the ship flooded his view.

* * *

Jukall looked down at his arm as he heard the docking clamps engage. Satisfied that he couldn't see his own arm, the Elite backed into the shadows of the dimly lit corridor and waited. Jukall had to remind himself to keep his sword shielded as the airlock doors snapped open. His four mandibles twisted into a look of disgust as humans lead the way in. Even as he listened to the each person's horrified observations, he mentally assessed each person's threat.

There were four of them, plus a non-human. The leader was tall for a human with simple clothing and his brown hair pulled up into a ponytail that Jukall assumed was for function more than style.

Behind him was another male human with shorter and darker hair. Though he wore similar clothes, they were a few shades brighter and lacked the chest plating. On top of this, he was clearly the youngest of the group.

Behind him was the non-human. The purple skinned creature had an arch in his frame that brought him down a couple inches. Though, Jukall imagined that the beast could easily raise to his own towering height.

Behind him was an older human with aging features and armor that loosely resembled the armor he had seen on other raids. If Jukall could, he would have grinned as he marked that one as one of the lesser threats.

The one behind him, nearly made Jukall snarl. He recognized that body armor. It was the same as the people who had torn up his team in the last raid. Putting his rage aside, he listened as the group spoke amongst themselves.

"Alright…" the leader paused as practically stared at Jukall.

The piercing look in the man's eyes made it nearly impossible to avoid shifting in discomfort. However, discipline and survival instincts ensured that the Elite remained as still as the wall he was against. Mentally he willed himself a part of the shadows as he locked eyes with the man. In those two seconds, the leader spiked past the Mandalorian and non-human to the top of his threat list.

"Is something wrong?" asked the youngest one as his own eyes narrowed.

The leader seemed to consider the question before answering.

"No, but watch your back. Something's not right," he ordered.

"Like what?" asked the non-human.

"Like dead crewmen and no attackers among the mess," the leader answered before moving on, "Ezra, take Rex and Zeb. Check out engineering and the cargo hold. Sabine and I will check out the bridge."

The youngest one, Ezra, let out a dejected sigh as he eyed the non-human. In spite of this, he still motioned them on without a word. As soon as both groups had disappeared around their respective corners, Jukall risked stepping into the dim light of the corridor.

"Kador. Myrell. Three targets are heading your way. Shadow but do not engage," he whispered into the battle net.

"And you?" questioned a voice from the other end.

"I've got two heading for the bridge," Jukall answered quickly.

"Understood."

With that, Jukall turned his focus on the duo that had just rounded another corner. With light feet and a caution born from experience, Jukall crept down after them. As he did his mind raced. What had happened at the air lock? Why had the human just stared at him? It was as though the human had spotted Jukall but chosen to ignore him. It simply didn't make sense.

 _Maybe it wasn't me. Maybe he heard something through the wall,_ Jukall tried to reason.

As they were working up to the bridge, the lead human staggered. He stumbled left, then right, before falling against the bulkhead. The man groaned as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"What is it?" the Mandalorian, Sabine, asked.

The man didn't respond as he pressed a button on his wrist.

"Yes?" answered a voice.

"Detach the Ghost," he ordered.

"What about you guys?" the person quizzed.

"We'll radio for a pick up. Just detach," he ordered urgently.

"But-"

"Just do it," he commanded before turning to the rainbow colored Mandalorian, "Try to reach Ezra. Tell him that we're not alone, and whomever it is isn't Imperial."

That did it. Jukall was now convinced. Something had gone wrong. The Elite waited until they had disappeared and pulled the hatch shut behind them. As soon as he was clear, the Elite opened his link to the battle net.

"This is Jukall. We've been compromised. Clear the ship of boarders, and use caution. These humans…" Jukall paused as he considered his wording.

"What about them?" Myrell pressed from the other end.

"One's a Mandalorian and the others… At least two aren't not normal," he finally answered.

"Demons?!" Kador demanded.

"I do not believe so. Just deal with them," Jukall ordered.

With that, he resumed his quiet chase. Opening the downward hatch had elicited a groan from the latch system. It wasn't loud but didn't inspire confidence in shutting the door. Knowing he would be discovered by the time they doubled back, he didn't bother shutting it.

As he slipped down, he found himself face to face with the twisted remains of the bridge door. Those, he remembered with a satisfied smirk. The initial team he had lead on board had cleared the ship fast and efficiently. Compared to all of the others, this had been an easy target. The crew had commendable determination, but no discipline and it had cost them dearly.

As the Elite inched toward the door, his eyes shot between the duo he was stalking and the bodies at his feet. Getting caught by way of crushing a hand was not how Jukall planned to start this off. What had started off as a slow creeping advance turning into a near jog as the Elite closed on the doors. Despite Jukall's towering size, he was able to keep the run near perfectly silent. He deftly twisted himself around the broken doors and snapped on his energy sword. That was his mistake. The lead human instantly spun around with saucer-like eyes.

"Behind you!" he yelled.

In one fluid move Sabine instantly spun around and ducked,. The smell of burnt metal flooded Jukall's nostrils as he felt his blade tip drag against metal. Despite hitting her helmet, it wasn't sufficient to cut through and Jukall showed nothing for his vicious strike. By the time he could recover from his overzealous swing, the Mandalorian was up and shooting with both pistols.

Jukall cursed himself as he retreated to the relative cover of the twisted blast doors. While he was doing so, he heard a _snap hiss_ from further inside the bridge. Looking over, he saw what appeared to be a green energy sword of some kind. However, he unlike his own, this one was perfectly straight. As he finished logging the information, his shields gave a chirp indicating that they had recovered- and none too soon. He rolled out of the way as the green blade came straight across where his neck had been. Jukall kicked the leader just below the chest. As he went down gasping, Jukall came up with two plasma rifles.

He turned his attention to the Mandalorian and started firing. The second he appeared from behind the door, Sabine began flooding the space with blaster fire while retreating for cover. Jukall's shields flared as super heated light crashed against his shields. However, he still did better than the Mandalorian. Four rounds caught her right in the chest. The force of the impact sent her staggering back over the rail of the observation deck.

Despite her incapacitated state, prior engagements told him that she wasn't dead yet. However, before he could finish Sabine, motion caught his eye. The leader was back up with a raised sword and shouting into his comm. Not waiting for his shields to recharge, Jukall shifted aim and started to fire at him. Much to his dismay, the blade caught each one as he, himself, tried also retreating toward the front of the bridge. However, like his partner, the leader payed for it. The splash from the plasma elicited a pained yell that Jukall knew too well. He grinned as the man was forced to drop his blade. His hands, arms, and shoulders glowed red from plasma burns as the pain brought him to his knees. Jukall holstered both of his rifles as he produced his own energy sword. In one last stroke of ego, Jukall switched off his a active camouflage. Given the man's insistence on using an energy sword, Jukall wanted the heretic to see the face of his killer. He would show the man how the sword is to truly be used.

As Jukall walked over to the leader, he relayed orders into the battle net. "The fleet knows of our presence. Detonate the charges and rendezvous at the hanger."

He was about to bring his blade down when the leader shoved both arms out. Suddenly, an invisible force sent him flying back down the passage. Jukall slammed into the metal floor. The Elite quickly picked himself up and marched down back up the corridor. He had just passed the ladder when the first explosion hit. The force of the blast threatened to throw him off balance as the ship shuddered in protest.

By this point, the leader had managed to get to his feet and retreat further into the bridge. Jukall, hastily did the math and realized he was out of time. With reluctance, he locked eyes with the human leader and armed two grenades. He pitched both. One stuck to the holotable, while the second one stuck to the blast door. It wasn't ideal but it would work.

* * *

Kanan's mind kicked further into overdrive as he saw the glowing orbs stick. The look on his attackers face said it all. Reacting mainly off reflex, Kanan shoved out his arms again. In spite of the excruciating pain, he felt the force barrier go up. The room turned white while the shock of the blast threw him into the same railing Sabine had fallen off of.

As his vision cleared, Kanan found himself glad to feel pain. It told him that he was alive. As a second explosion rocked the ship, he recalled the alien's orders. They needed to move. Working quickly and with aid of the force, Kanan threw Sabine over his shoulder. The act coupled with her weight caused the Jedi to nearly pass out from the pain. Instead, he gritted his teeth and forced one foot in front of the other in stumbles that tried to pass off as a run.

"This is Specter one to Specter 6- Argh!" Kanan felt as though fire had exploded in his shoulder as he slid Sabine off of it. Not waiting for the pain to pass, he ordered, "They're... They're gonna blow the ship. Head for the escape pods."

"This is Rex. Ezra is down. Are you alright?" the Captain demanded.

"No, but I'll make it. Sabine's down and I'm barely up-" another blast rocked the ship, "Get going," Kanan ordered as he used the force to pull Sabine up through the hatch.

"Understood. Rex out."

From the hatch, the attempted run down to the escape pods was the longest, most painful sixty seconds of Kanan's life. Luckily, it seemed their attackers weren't quick clear on where to place their explosives. If they had been, escape pods would be wishful thinking. As he went stumbling into the bay, he saw Rex watching by an open hatch.

"We're here. Go," he commanded as he practically tossed Sabine into the nearest pod.

Rex nodded and disappeared into his pod with the other three. Once the pod had launched, Kanan used the force to pull the door to his own pod shut. Within two seconds of that, his own pod was shooting out into space. He looked back just in time to watch as the Liberator was consumed in a fiery blast.

With the ship gone, Kanan turned his attention back to his pod. With a dejected sigh, he opened the comm channel.

"Phoenix 1, this is Specter 1. The Liberator's lost," he declared through deep breaths.

"I saw that," responded a disapproving Commander Sato.

"Ya… Just have a medical team on stand by we have at least two critical," he requested as he felt the Ghost scoop up his pod.

At first the only response was silence. Kanan was about to ask again when the Commander responded.

"Understood. They'll be waiting," he acknowledged, "As will I."

 **(ISD Chimerea: 3 days later)**

Agent Kallus felt the anger grow inside him, the more he contemplated Kanan's message. It wasn't over the Liberator's loss. Hell, Sato would probably have another by the end of the month. It wasn't the fact that this was yet another raid. It was that this information was now useless to anyone outside Kallus himself.

"Congrats. You've screwed me. You nerf herder, you just screwed me," he fumed.

With that, he produced a specially encrypted comm system, and began his message. It started with the usual code phases to identify himself. Once completed he started.

"While I appreciate the information given to me in the last transmission. I am afraid it is now useless except to ensure my own survival. Should I pass this information on, I will be compromised as will, I fear, the fleet. With that said, I have more important news. General Tagge has been given command of sweeping the space lanes. Attached is his personnel file. Tread lightly. This is not an improvement of your situation. So far, three foreign warships have been destroyed by Imperial fleets. However, we believe there are other ones hiding within the galaxy. Admiral Thrawn has received permission from the Emperor himself. We are launching a full invasion of the unknown regions. No limits. No parameters. We stop, when they stop. The Chimerea leaves with an expeditionary force of unknown strength in two weeks. That is all there is to report. I fear this may be my last transmission for…" Kallus stopped his explanation as he paled, "I fear this may be my last ever. I have reason to believe the Admiral suspects me, and our new enemy does not die easily. I will transmit again, only if it is safe to do so. Fulcrum, out."

Once satisfied that the transmission had been sent, Agent Kallus quickly and carefully stowed away the transmitter. Just as he finished, his Imperial issue comm link chimed.

"Agent Kallus here," he answered.

"Sir, the Admiral wants you. It's about the upcoming operation," stated the officer on the other end.

"Understood. On my way. Kallus, out."


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey, everyone! Well, I have the next chapter. If this chapter seems a little dry, I appologize. I tried to avoid that, but there was a lot of set up that needs to happen before we can get to the fun stuff. Anyways, I hope everyone still enjoys it, and I would love to know what you all think.**

 **So, without further ado, I give you chapter 3...**

* * *

 **(ISD Chimera: Yaga Minor Shipyards)**

Ships came and went like clockwork. The silent majority were supply ships- some private and some government. Like any other other well run installation, the Yaga Minor orbital docks did not discriminate with who they received cargo from. Under the ever watchful gaze fighters and turbolasers, each ship was hastily taken in, relieved of their cargo, and tossed back into the dark void of space. Within this scene of controlled chaos, Imperial warships were also hustled to their respective docks. Some came in scarred and damaged, hoping to leave in a much better state. While others came for replenishment and to receive of orders.

As Thrawn looked out on this, he could help but smirk. How many ships knew the depth of what was happening? How many of these supply craft understood the history about to be made, and how many were just filling another contract? Sure, a build up like this generated chatter. Chances are, the Chiss knew more than half of the crewmen scurrying around in the hangers below. However, there was a difference between simply hearing, and truly knowing. It was that gap in understanding that gap in understanding that Thrawn hoped would give him the edge.

The blue skinned Admiral was snapped out of his thoughts as the doors to the war room hissed open. The Admiral turned around and made his way back toward the holotable. Waiting for him with his hands clasped behind his back, was Governor Saxon- or "Viceroy" depending on what helped you sleep better at night.

"Governor. What can I do for you?" Thrawn asked as he drew himself to his full height.

"As you expected, the clans of the dead got Agent Kallus's message loud and clear. As you know, few if any of them truly believe in the Empire. They will obey, but their first priority is honor..." Saxon began as he started to fidget.

It wasn't obvious, but Thrawn could see the small muscle fluctuations in the man's arms. Clearly, he wasn't happy about this next part.

"And?" the Admiral pursued.

Saxon's face grew annoyed as he continued, "I did not realize it at the time. However, one of the clans is clan Priest. They were one of the core groups of Death Watch. Some of the further removed members are attempting to separate themselves from the movement, but this isn't sitting well with the other four. I'm bad enough. Vizla was an offense. Priest was the salt in the wound."

"You told me blood would bring them around," Thrawn argued as his eyes narrowed.

"You're right. I did. However, I did not have my facts straight when I made that claim," Saxon conceded.

Thrawn nodded as he thought the matter over.

"Can there be compromise?" he questioned.

"Not as long as I act as mediator. I am not what they consider ' _ijaat'_ ," the Governor answered with a bitter frown.

Admiral Thrawn adjusted the cuffs on his sleeves while considering the information. Finally, he spoke up with the tone of a disapproving parent.

"That is the problem with 'honor'. So many worship it. So many swear by it. Yet, no one truly knows how to achieve it," Thrawn declared.

He was about to continue when his comm link chimed.

"Admiral Thrawn," he acknowledged.

"Admiral, this is Commander Corso. Our squad of Mandalorians has arrived. However, there was an incident that you should be aware of," the Commander stated.

His voice was tight and measured. Through the link, Thrawn could picture the man's hardened face and hear the anger simmering below the surface. His words were neutral, but to the Admiral his anger was clear.

"What happened," the Admiral pursued.

"There was a physical altercation in hanger 1A. My men intervened and the situation is under control. However, the first two responders are in the med bay," the Commander explained.

The Commander's tone radiated into Admiral Thrawn's features as he listened to his subordinate tell the entire story. It was soon clear that he was neither impressed or ok with any of what he was hearing.

"How bad were those two injured?" he quizzed.

"They'll live. Docs are looking them over now," the Commander answered quickly, "One got kicked in the head really hard and medics are trying to figure out how to remove a vibroblade from his partner's shoulder without doing more damage."

Thrawn let his eyes drift to the ceiling as he considered his options. Finally, settling on one, he issued his orders to the Commander. Once the channel closed, Admiral Thrawn turned back to Saxon.

"I need you to leave for this," he ordered.

"Are you sure you want to take your life into your own hands like that?" Saxon objected.

"I'll be fine," Thrawn reassured, "However, in order for them to appreciate who's running this operation, I need to remove you from this equation. They need to see me without you at my side. Or else they will only hear your voice coming out of my mouth."

"And that's a bad thing?" Saxon chided.

"Do not become greedy. I do not believe you appreciate how weak your position is. If they believe you are going for a power grab, you will not survive and the support I require will disappear," the Admiral warned him.

Gar Saxon's body tensed as the Admiral spoke. Yet, he chose to leave the statement alone with a simple acknowledgement. Unfortunately, the Grand Admiral was the one man he couldn't touch.

"I will be leaving then so you may deal with this matter," the Governor announced instead.

"Thank you, and Saxon, no more mistakes," he ordered.

"Of course."

With that, the Gar Saxon spun on his heel and marched for the door. Five minutes after he left, Commander Corso entered with a sea of color behind him. Bracketing the group were two squads of stormtroopers. Thrawn noted that each Mandalorian had been disarmed and the troopers were keeping their blaster at ready low. Clearly trust levels were at a minimum.

"Gentlemen, _olarom,_ " Thrawn greeted with ice.

Each of the ten Mandalorians came to a stop between the holoboard and the door. Glances of surprise were silently traded between the various different Mandalorian fighters. It was rare that an outsider understood their language, and even more rare that an Imperial officer would bother using it.

"Commander, this bridge is getting rather crowded. You can dismiss your men. I think we can handle this," Thrawn declared.

"Yes sir."

With that, Commander Corso dismissed the rest of his troopers. Once they were gone, the he addressed the Mandalorians.

"Alright, here's how this is going to work," he voice boomed, "We are going to speak. You, fine gentlemen, are going to listen."

One of the Mandalorians in black and red armor opened his mouth to speak. However, it was Admiral Thrawn's voice that came out.

"A'den Priest, I suggest you choose your words carefully from now on. It's my understanding that you are at the bottom of this mess," Admiral Thrawn warned him.

A'den slowly shut his mouth as the other Mandalorians traded glances of surprise and worry. Clearly, they were somewhat weary of A'den. Once it was clear that everyone was sufficiently silenced, Admiral Thrawn addressed the group.

"It has come to my attention that there was fight in the lower hanger. Two Stormtroopers were injured in the process. Now, according to the Commander, this fight only involved two you. However, the tensions permeate this whole group. Correct?" Admiral Thrawn announced.

The each one of the Mandalorians slowly nodded in agreement. Thrawn was about to continue when one of the dark skinned Mandalorians spoke up.

"If it wasn't for those traitors, we wouldn't be having this problem. They cost a lot of innocent people their lives," the man added in.

Admiral Thrawn didn't respond at first as his eyes drifted across the armor. His marked up orange and green armor easily identified his clan affiliation while the scar running diagonally across his face identified him personally as Ranak Eldar. The Imperial officer quickly pulled the basic information from his memory before answering.

"Death Watch is dead. The Shadow Collective is dead," the tension instantly spiked, "I suggest everyone respects that. Yes, there are those who cling to the ideology. However, as an organization, they died at the end of the Clone Wars," the tension dropped slightly when Thrawn's meaning became clear.

"Right now, I am going to make one thing extremely clear. This is not a Mandalorian operation. Yes, your people were killed. I respect that. I respect the need for vengeance. Regardless, this is an Imperial operation. You exist in our chain of Command. You're only here because I want you here. Do not burn this bridge. You will regret it," Thrawn lectured.

As the Admiral spoke, he was careful to lock eyes with each person. He wanted to know how well each person reacted to outside authority. There were those who stared him down. There were those who looked everywhere except in his eyes, and then there was the final group of four that stood completely still with their gaze straight ahead.

 _Those ones have military training,_ he mentally noted.

Ranak Eldar was no surprise as he had served in the CIS as a mercenary. No doubt he held some experience in this. However, the others interested him. None of their files indicated professional military training.

"I will now turn it over to Commander Corso, because his men were the ones injured. Make no mistake, I have signed off on everything he is about to say. Test us at your own risk," Admiral Thrawn warned them.

With that, Commander Corso stepped forward and took the focus off of the Admiral.

"Alright here's the deal," he announced, "What happened down there is unacceptable. I don't care who started it, or who finished it. I have two men in medbay courtesy of that stunt-"

"Should've thought twice about joining in," A'den muttered.

"Shut up and listen," Corso snapped as he slammed his fist into the holotable, "In the Imperial Stormtrooper corps we have a motto, 'Live as one. Die as many.' Write it down. Brand it on your armor. I don't care. Either way, I suggest you commit it to memory, because if any of you are caught fighting again, I will make sure none of you get a contract ever again. Am I understood?"

A'den instantly bellowed, "How dare you!? Outsiders like you have no authority to blacklist-"

"There are other ways," Thrawn cut in with a raised voice

Taking control, Commander Corso locked eyes with A'den and demanded "Am I understood?"

"Yes," he bit out.

Commander Corso took one step back without breaking eye contact.

"Yes what?" he pursued.

A'den's fists balled as he glared at the Commander. In those few seconds, the looks coming from the duo was enough to make everyone take a half step back. Even Admiral Thrawn was worried about what would happen next. As the silent stand off continued, Admiral Thrawn seriously considered recalling the Stormtrooper squads.

Though he didn't say anything, he was both glad that Corso had chosen to zero in on A'den and wished that the Commander had held his tongue. A'den was the last man anyone wanted to piss off. However, he was also the most likely to fly off the handle, and needed firmly put in place.

"We can stand here all day if you want. I have time. I've got nothing but time," the Commander lied with a shrug.

After close to a minute, A'den finally caved in.

"Yes. Commander," he growled.

"Thank you," the Commander acknowledged before addressing the group, "Dismissed."

The group was slow to move as the Mandalorians went between staring at the Commander and passing glances at each other. Angry glares and mumbled words made their collective agitation and discomfort clear. In spite of this, the Mandalorians slowly left. They filed out one at a time and sometimes in groups of two or three- each time casting backward glances of worry. This continued until A'den was one of the last remaining. Finally, as the other two made for the door, he slowly turned to leave as well. Neither Thrawn or Corso was surprised when he spun around at the blast doors.

"Oh, and Commander?"

"What is it?" Corso acknowledged with a sigh.

"Time…" A'den started with an upward glance, as though considering his words, "Time is the one thing you don't have a lot of. I'll be seeing you soon."

Commander Corso allowed an icy smirk as he rose to the challenge.

"I look forward to it."

With that, A'den disappeared behind the blast doors. As soon as the man was gone, Commander Corso let out a sigh of relief.

"I still think letting him on was a bad idea," he muttered as he scratched his head.

Admiral Thrawn nodded as he pressed a few keys on the holotable. He was immediately rewarded with holographic image of a planetary system. The Admiral frowned as he produced a data pad. He first tapped a few keys on that before manipulating the image on the table. It zoomed in on the largest of the planets. He was immediately rewarded with a closer view of the planet, it's one habitable moon, and a massive circular ring.

"So, are we really pushing up the launch date?" the Commander asked as he stared at the object.

Admiral Thrawn didn't immediately respond as he continued picking apart the image.

"Basic scans show it as a habitable object. Yet, it's artificial in construction," he quietly observed, "So what is…"

All of a sudden, the officer's eyes widened in surprise and horror. It was as though he had just figured out the solution to some horrifying puzzle.

"Stardust," he muttered.

Corso looked at him blankly.

"What?"

"Nothing," the Admiral dismissed hastily, "Just speculation at the moment."

Commander Corso wasn't convinced and his eyes narrowed.

"What's 'Stardust'?" he pursued.

"It was an old Chiss terraforming project. They tried making artificial worlds like this," Thrawn lied.

"Looks like they succeed," Corso noted.

"Possible, but unlikely. This isn't Chiss in design, and the project reportedly failed," Thrawn corrected, "I don't know who did this or what it is."

"Ok. So, I guess we come back to my first question," the Commander resigned.

"It would appear so," Admiral Thrawn agreed, "Inform Agent Kallus that we will proceed with the new deadline. It's not the threats we see that worry me. It's the threats we don't see that worry me."

As the Admiral spoke, he gestured to the ring. Commander Corso didn't totally understand, nor was he sure he wanted to. As much as he respected the Grand Admiral, the man's comments sometimes hinted at a dark expanse of knowledge that Corso was quite content to hold at arm's length.

 **(Phoenix Staging area: 2 days later)**

Kanan resisted the urge to scratch at his arms as he stared at the image. While extended time in a bacta tank had repaired the worst of the damage from his fight, it did little to cure the intense itching that came with burn recovery.

However, right now, that was second on his list of worries. The top spot was occupied by the massive ring dominating the holotable. In the background, a massive gas giant gave the ring scale. It wouldn't be a stretch to say that an entire Imperial fleet could fit within the confines of the circular structure. Next to him, Hera raised an eyebrow as she read the datapad in her hand.

"Odd. I would expect the Imperials to do a better job keeping information like this a secret," she noted as she looked up from the datapad.

"I agree. This could be a trap," Kanan suggested.

"Yes, but it's also hard to hide a military build up like this," Commander Sato argued from the other side of the table, "Also, Fulcrum we were also able to confirm the fleet's orders. In two days they leave for the coordinates in that report."

"Given the number of supply ships going with, they do expect to be there a while," Hera added.

Kanan shook his head.

"Something doesn't feel right. I think following them in is going to be too much of a risk. That far out from Imperial Space is poorly mapped. If they catch us, we easily be pinned in," he pressed.

"Perhaps. However, the Ghost has a better chance of making it out than any other ship. A wings and B wings can't make the trip. On top of that, any worthwhile sensory operator isn't going to miss a fully armed Corvette appearing on his scanners," Commander Sato acknowledged.

For the next few minutes, Kanan and Commander Sato debated the matter. Neither man was willing to back down, but neither one was willing to escalate the matter either. As they talked, Hera continued studying the image. She tried to envision how the Imperials would deploy themselves. The ring sat in high orbit over the gas giant, while the moon orbited in an elongated oval. If she had this pictured right, the fleet would be arriving right as the moon was drawing closest to the ring. This would considerably narrow the gap and affect how the fleet would deploy themselves. If this Admiral was smart, he would stay out of that choke point, especially if combat was expected.

"We might be able to follow undetected," she announced mainly to Kanan.

Kanan, who had been talking, shot her a brief glare for interrupting but conceded the floor.

"How?"

"The Imperial fleet will likely be deployed here and/or here-" Hera marked a space on either side of the ring, "If we are precise on our jump, we may be able to arrive in system on the opposite side, here," she pointed to the backside of the gas giant.

"We won't be able to see anything," Kanan objected.

Hera waved him silent and continued, "No, but according to the Imperial report, the giant's atmosphere is electromagnetically charged. Up along the top edge, it shouldn't be enough to permanently damage the ship, but it should be sufficient to hide us from their sensors as we slip around to the front side here. From that point, we can rise clear into space and kill the engines before we are spotted."

As she finished, she pointed to a spot on the ring side of the planet.

"That would work, except the break out from hyperspace would ring up on Imperial scanners," Commander Sato objected.

"Not to mention, this all assumes that those storms shielding us won't also kill us. Being crushed by the planet's own pressure is not appealing," Kanan added in.

Hera gave a knowing smile as she looked at the two of men.

"That's why I won't be flying," she announced.

"You won't?" both of them gasped.

"Nope. In order to pull out without being seen, we'll need let the momentum push us into the atmosphere. There, the power output should wash out against the planet's own emissions. Both that and navigating the storms will require better reflexes than I have," the Twi'lek explained.

Kanan frowned as he connected the dots.

"Even for a Force sensitive that's pushing it. If I'm off even by a quarter second, the ship and everyone inside could be crushed before we even know what is happening," Kanan warned.

"I know. The question is, 'can you do it?'" Hera readily acknowledged.

Kanan shrugged and looked at Commander Sato.

"It won't be the most crazy thing you've done," Commander Sato reminded him.

Kanan rolled his eyes at the comment as he though it over.

"Sadly, you're right. I'll do it," he conceded.

* * *

In the lower cargo hold, Sabine worked alone. Beads of sweat dripped down her face as she drove her hammer into the glowing beskar chestplate. The sound of metal on metal echoed down the length of the cavernous space. The only break was when she paused to inspect her work. She grumbled to herself as she examined the metal. It was warped. Taking the only option she had, Sabine inserted the metal plate back into the makeshift kiln and let it reheat.

Her chest plate had taken the brunt of the punishment when she was shot. However, it had saved her at a price. The area around the heart had been completely slagged, and she was left with second and third degree burns. A bacta tank had done wonders. However, like Kanan, she was still itchy, sore, and generally uncomfortable.

Sabine could tell she was Mandalorian because none of that annoyed her as much as the fact that she could not get ahold of the Beskar needed to repair the armor. That metal was only found on Mandalore and its moon, both of which she was not welcome on. As a result, Sabine was forced to improvise. She had been forced to draw out the rest of the metal, and hammer in some kind of durasteel alloy that may or may not work with the pre-existing metal.

For the next several hours, she labored over the chestplate. Using methods passed from generation to generation, Sabine heated the material, hammered it out, cooled it, and repeated process. The entire process was tiring and required a keen eye for detail. As she grew more tired, more mistakes were made. As more mistakes were made, her mood began to plummet. Despite her growing frustration, discipline and determination kept Sabine working. Once she was finally convinced she had a piece of armor that wouldn't fail in the first firefight, Sabine retreated to her quarters on board the Ghost.

Sabine didn't so much as pause when her door hissed shut. In one fluid motion, she tossed the hunk of metal onto her bed, and turned for the refresher. The feel of cold water against her face was both a shock and a pleasant sensation. Working with the fiery oven had overheated her more than she thought. With reluctance, she turned off the stream of water, dried her face, and selected four cans of paint on her way to the small table next to her bed. Once, there she keyed up the only message she had, and listened as she worked.

"Hey, Sabine. It's Coradian," despite years apart, his voice instantly brought back memories, both pleasant and unpleasant, "I know it's been a while, but listen… uh…I recently got a contract- a big one- but it's put some things into perspective and there's something I want to say: I'm sorry. I'm sorry, that I rejected you like the rest. I'm sorry that your were tricked into killing your own, and I want you to know that I no longer question why you abandoned the academy," the voice forced out.

"Look, I wish I could make up for lost time. I wish I could see you again, but I can't-" Coradian was interrupted by a muffled yell before finishing, "I'm… I'm out of time. I can't help you now, but you have to leave. Leave the rebellion. Leave the Empire. Things are happening. This government and your rebellion are both slowly collapsing. They're rotting from the inside, an-and when they die, they will take everyone else with them."

The rapid fire madness of his claims suddenly gave way to a nearly pitiful plea, "Please. For your own sake. I'm sure there are people who can shelter you in the Mandalore sector. Leave this place and let the galaxy end itself…" her cousin let out a resigned sigh, " _Ret'urcye mhi_ Sabine... I'll see you on the other side."

With that, the message clicked off. Sabine stood frozen. She had long since stopped working. Sabine finally lowered the metal plate to the ground as the message echoed through her mind. She had first received the message two days before he was killed. Her last memory of him involved bitter rage as he turned his back and dismissed her as a disloyal fool. Given this, she had refused to listen to the message. Even upon his death, she was reluctant to push her own pride off to the side, and now she was wishing she had. Something was clearly going to kill him, even before those aliens stepped in the picture.

For most of the message, Coradian sounded half mad. It was almost as though he was trying to rail against everything he could as fast as he could. The stumbling over his words and frantic tone almost made Sabine wonder if her cousin had gotten himself drunk. It didn't happen often, but when he did, he became quite the fatalist. However, there was a lucidness to his voice that made her shutter. He was sober, and he was well aware of what he was saying. Clearly, he expected to die. Her mind raced with possible culprits. Clearly these aliens had gotten to him first. She just wanted to know who was second on the list of killers.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey everyone! Well, this is it. We have now entered CE territory. I hope everyone enjoys this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. Either way, let me know what you all think. Ideas are always welcome.**

 **So, without further ado, I give you chapter 4...**

* * *

 **(ISD Chimerea: Soell System, unknown regions)**

It took Grand Admiral Thrawn every effort not to let his jaw drop as he stared out the view port. He knew from the viper probes that the object was massive. However, holovids and assorted images did the place no justice. This object wasn't just massive. It was magnificent. Electronic measurements put the ring at 10,000 kilometers in diameter. The shimmering, grey exterior was dotted with blue circles of lights that testified to its artificial design. However, it was the inside that was fascinating. The interior face of the ring contained seemingly natural terrain with sandy deserts, rolling hills, towering forests, and a spine of mountains that ran down the center into one of the three oceans. All of this and more was enveloped in a breathable atmosphere.

After a solid minute of staring, Admiral Thrawn forced himself to turn away from the viewport and focus on the task at hand. He paced the deck, personally reviewing the various controls and system readouts.

"Come about to point five-ten by three-seven. Tell the fleet to form up wide in a sword and shield," Admiral Thrawn calmly ordered.

"Yes sir," acknowledged the Captain before issuing follow up orders of his own.

The response was immediate as the deck angled downward. Admiral Thrawn both listened as watched as both the ring and the planet's moon competed for space in the viewport. While the ships' positions would force the drop ships to do some ducking and weaving on the way into the ring, it would give each one of his warships a wide field of fire without being totally exposed.

Five minutes later, one of the crewmen reported that the fleet was set. Further orders were issued to deploy TIE fighters as sentries. Ten minutes after that, Admiral Thrawn watched as the first wave of landing craft roared out from the safety of their mother ships.

* * *

Agent Kallus watched out the cockpit viewport as his Sentinel-Class shuttle raced for the massive ring. Unlike the Admiral, his jaw dropped as they came to the ring. Luckily the pilots had their backs to him, and couldn't see the stupefied expression plastered on his face.

"Look at the size of that thing," the pilot gasped as he angled his craft for the surface.

"You could fit an entire ship in there," added his awestruck co-pilot.

Kallus decided to drop any attempt at formality and shook his head in disagreement.

"Try the entire fleet," he corrected.

The trio was refocused as the ship crossed over the divide separating space from the artificial planet. Agent Kallus watched the pilot resist the urge to jerk back on his control yoke as the ground suddenly rose up to meet them.

"Dropping in ten," the man announced as he began cutting speed.

"Life signs?" Kallus quizzed.

"Negative. However, this ground's dense. Without orbital scans I would take the readouts with a grain of salt," the copilot advised.

"Understood," he acknowledged before disappearing back into the deployment bay.

The pilot's call proved to be accurate down to the second. Exactly ten minutes later, the ramp dropped and Agent Kallus lead two squads of stormtroopers out into the bright sunlight. As the troopers raced off to carry out orders relayed in flight, Agent Kallus was left to take in the sights.

Everywhere within a seven mile radius, TIE Reapers and Sentinel-Class shuttles all deposited Stormtroopers, Mandalorian Shock troopers, Death Troopers, and, in one case, a squad of Mandalorians wearing different colors of armor. In the near distance, he could also hear the mechanical whine of servos cross with the rumble of repulsor-lifts as light armor was deposited by their own special crafts.

Agent Kallus was refocused as he approached the improvised C and C (Command and Control Center). At the moment, it simply was made up of two men standing over a very rough holomap, debating over how they should go about the mission. As much as the Agent had no wish to be caught between Commander Corso and Gar Saxon, he had no real choice and thus quietly inserted himself into the conversation as a trio of TIE fighters roared overhead.

"...Two cruisers are taking up station to run geological scans on the ring," Commander Corso was explaining.

"Until then, we don't know how deep that tunnel system goes or if it is all one system," Saxon declared.

"I know that. However, those scans will a few hours, and I need to know before then if there's an immediate threat to my men. Probes don't just arbitrarily explode," Corso explained.

Given his exasperated tone, it was clear that this was the same issue that had started long before they set down on the ring. Agent Kallus had heard the start of this conversation and had made it his position clear. He failed to suppress his annoyed sigh.

"Give me a squad and the coordinates. I'll go find out what happened," he cut in.

Both men were snapped from the argument and simply stared at him for a second. In spite of this, Commander Corso seized the opportunity.

"Done. A Reaper will fly you in. Sergeant Blackburn and his squad will support you. Coordinates will be transmitted in route," he agreed as he steamrolled over the Governor's objections.

As Agent Kallus took off on his assignment, Commander Corso turned to the Mandalorian.

"This is my op, _Governor._ Part of the job description is identifying threats. We didn't just lose signal, and no self-destruct sequence was activated. I saw the last image. It was shot at. I want to know why," Commander Corso reprimanded.

"I know that it was shot at. I saw the same video you did," the Governor argued, "It was a fixed emplacement. This is a waste of resources and of my men's talent."

Commander Corso pinched the bridge of his nose as he hit the end of his patience.

"Gar Saxon, I have made my decision. It falls within the mission parameters and is important to both the safety of our men and the complete fulfillment of our mission. As such, the acceptance of your input is simply a formality. If you can't respect that, I suggest you catch the next flight up to the Chimerea," he declared in a hushed, deadly tone.

The Governor's eye twitched as the anger coursed through his body. To his credit, Gar Saxon simply accepted the declaration with a tilted head.

"Since when is the safety of subordinates something the Empire cares about?" Saxon finally quizzed.

"They don't. I do. Deal with it."

 **(ISD Chimerea: 1 hour later)**

"Sir, we have multiple contacts appearing on the far side of the planet," called an officer from the crew pit.

"How many?" Admiral Thrawn questioned as he turned for the holotable.

"Sixty, sir. The ships are bigger. However, the FTL signature appears to be similar to the ones destroyed previously," explained the man's commanding officer.

"Put it up on the table," he commanded.

"Yes sir."

Seconds later, a series of different sized arrows appeared on the far side of the map Thrawn had previously keyed up. In that moment, a series of decisions needed to be made. He quickly took in the information, took two seconds to consider his options, then acted.

"Raise shields, and get second wave off the deck now. Instruct the Hunter and the Credence to return to formation," he ordered quickly, "Send away the supply ships. Once they are out of the system, the leader is to radio in to Command. Inform them of the situation and request support."

The bridge crew carried out his orders with more enthusiasm than Thrawn believed they could be feeling. His decision had been quick, but hard to make. Up to that point, he had the option to make a tactical retreat. Retracting the first wave of troops wouldn't have been hard and, given the odds, he could have even made a reasonable case to the Emperor. However, until Thrawn was convinced that this ring wasn't a weapon, retreat was not an option.

He let out a barely audible sigh as the first ships streaked past the viewport. He was committed now. The Admiral quickly forced the worry from his mind as more reports came in. The two cruisers had entered position. A number of smaller ships were breaking off from the foreign fleet, and one last declaration that changed everything.

"Sir. Another ship is entering the system. FTL signature is the same, but the thruster output is totally different," called the Chimerea's captain.

"Show me," Admiral Thrawn ordered as he produced a datapad.

A few seconds later, the ship appeared as an arrow on the map, while preliminary information began appearing on the pad. Tonnage placed the grey, cylindrical ship in the category of heavy cruiser. Initial scans showed that ship lacked shielding of any kind. Given the evidence of heavy fighting, Thrawn imagined that the shields may have been lost in it's previous engagement. However, given the density of her armor, he doubted that the cruiser had any to begin with.

He made these observations quickly and turned to the map. The initial group of ships was headed straight for the newcomer. Much to his surprise, they had never adjusted course.

"Admiral, there's energy fluctuations across the ship. Possible weapons are coming on line…"

The officer called out a whole line of other observations. Yet they mattered little. Admiral Thrawn already knew what they meant.

"They were never after us," he muttered.

Immediately, more decisions were made, orders were issued, and the Grand Admiral offered up a small prayer to whatever deity happened to actually exist.

 **(UNSC Pillar of Autumn: 5 minutes earlier)**

Captain Jacob Keyes didn't bother to hide his exhaustion as he listened to Cortana's disembodied voice spell out their current situation. This had been a long mission that could be described as nothing but a series of close calls and lucky escapes. Ever since blasting their way out of Reach, the crew had been going hard to evade their pursuers. Now, when it had appeared that they were home free, Keyes was delivered with a harsh wake-up call.

"Cortana," he interrupted, "All I want to know is, 'did we lose them?'"

There was a half-second of silence, and the Captain could picture the A.I.'s annoyed expression.

"I think we both know the answer to that," she answered.

Captain Keyes twisted his face in confusion as he took a puff from the pipe he kept on him.

"We made a blind jump. How did they-"

"'Get here first? Covenant ships have always been faster-" Keyes conceded the point with a shrug, "-As for tracking us from Reach, once we entered slipspace my maneuvering options were limited," Cortana explained as the Captain retreated to a line of workstations.

"We ran silent, didn't we?" Captain Keys quizzed as he examined one of the monitors.

"Until we came out. No one could've missed the hole we tore in subspace," she confirmed.

"What of our new friends?" he questioned as he made his way to the center of the bridge.

"For the most part holding station… wait… I've got ships leaving the object. Our sensors were damaged on the way out of Reach, but if I'm seeing this right, the two larger ships are being followed by a line of smaller ones- small transports if I had to guess," Cortana reported.

Captain Keys took a puff of his pipe as he constructed his next question.

"What's our status with the Covenant fleet?" he inquired.

Two longswords chose that moment to dart past the viewport, as though summoned by his question.

"Fighters are mopping up the last of their recon picket…" Cortana trailed off.

"And?"

"And about thirty of those foreign ships just disappeared out of the system," she answered before allowing more hesitation in her voice, "It's odd. The ships made an FTL jump. Yet none of them entered slipspace."

Keyes raised an eyebrow.

"You said the sensor array was damaged. Could we have-"

"No. We would have noticed a slipspace rupture. The sensor array is damaged, not non-existent," Cortana countered.

"So, basically we have the Covenant to one side and a completely unknown entity to the other," the Captain summed up.

"Basically. Right now, I would focus on the enemy we know. Those recon ships are being followed up with battlecruisers, and in ninety seconds they're going to be all over us," Cortana warned.

"That does it. Hail our new friends and bring Autumn back up to combat alert 'alpha'. I want all hands on deck," Captain Keyes ordered before finishing in his head _, I'm not letting anyone die in their beds_.

"Everyone?" Cortana confirmed as the ship's red emergency lights flashed on.

"Everyone."

The ship came alive as off-duty crew members rushed to their stations. Hallways clogged as men and equipment were shuffled from location to location. Further aft, armories were unlocked as Marines and ODSTs raced to collect their gear. Briefing rooms were bypassed in favor of armories and hangar bays. Abbreviated inspections were conducted as deckhands raced to get every craft in flying order and every land vehicle tied down for the flight ahead.

If one walked straight from the hangers into the cryo bay, the difference would be jarring. The cavernous room was silent. Up in the control room, two men stood in silence, consumed by their work. There was a chime, and the subordinate blinked in surprise as Cortana's orders appeared on screen.

 _Unseal the hushed casket_ , read the display.

"Ah… sir," the man stammered.

The second officer looked over and let out a muted gasp, before quickly recovering.

"Right. Let's wake him up," he ordered.

 **(ISD Chimerea)**

Admiral Thrawn turned his attention to the viewscreen positioned above the forward viewports. Two seconds later a human face appeared on screen. Thrawn watched a flash of hatred cut through the man's worn features. However, it was quickly shoved back, replacing the coldness in his eyes with alertness.

"This is the UNSC Pillar of Autumn. May I ask who I'm sharing a system with… Preferably before your ships get blown away," the man requested.

"This is the ISD Chimerea. I wouldn't shoot down those TIEs for two reasons. One, they are coming to help you. Two, you're sitting right in my kill zone. All I need to do is give one order and I remove you from this battle entirely," Thrawn calmly warned.

The human briefly turned from away and issued orders to someone off screen.

"Fine," the man agreed before narrowing his eyes, "What's you're problem with the Covenant?"

 _So that's what they're called_ , Thrawn mentally noted before answering, "They started a fight. I'm here to finish it. While I would love to exchange pleasantries, there will be time for that later."

The man hesitated as he considered the statement. It was clear the Captain wanted to object. If Thrawn had to lay money, he would have bet on the man pressing the issue. However, another hasty conversation off screen changed the Captain's mind.

After that, Admiral Thrawn listened as the man shifted his hands off screen and ordered, "Send the Master Chief to the bridge immediately."

He couldn't quite tell what the man on the other side said, and the Captain was clearly beyond caring.

"On the double crewman," he barked.

As the Captain closed the channel, the Chimerea's Captain walked up.

"Sir, wings 1 and 2 made contact," he whispered, "It appears a wave of boarding craft beat them to the Autumn."

"Patch the TIEs into the Autumn's fighter control. They'll be able to call things out better than us," Admiral Thrawn ordered in an equally hushed tone, "All ahead at three quarters speed. Have the Strikefast come in off the ship's stern and provide support."

"Yes sir," the Captain acknowledged.

As he disappeared, Admiral Thrawn turned back to the waiting Captain.

"The Strikefast is moving into position off of your stern. It should draw fire off of your ship. She's also carrying a couple un-launched fighter squadrons. I suggest you use them wisely," he explained.

Admiral Thrawn watched the man suppress sigh before accepting the help with a nod. While the man didn't object to the support, he clearly didn't like Thrawn calling the shots.

"What about the rest of your-" the Captain was cut off by the static that came with a severed connection.

 **(UNSC Pillar of Autumn)**

Captain Keys braced himself against a nearby control board as the ship shuddered.

"Cortana, report," he demanded as he turned back to where the alien's face should be.

He swore as he discovered that the connection had disappeared in wave of static.

"An internal blast severed inter-ship comms. We can barely reach our own fighters, let alone the Strikefast or Chimerea. It'll take time, but I should be able to fix some of the damage," she answered.

"Do it. Prioritize the link to our own fighters and the Strikefast. I don't need a friendly-fire incident," he ordered.

"What about that other signal?" Cortana asked.

"Have you been able to trace it?" he inquired.

"No. It's heavily coded," Cortana responded with clear frustration.

"Then log it and forget it. Prioritize reconnecting us with the outside world. Staying alive is our first goal," Captain Keyes ordered.

"Yes, Captain."

For the first time in this whole ordeal, Keys heard worry in the A.I.'s voice. That alone was enough to make his gut churn. He shoved it aside as he examined the tactical display. The Strikefast was easily identifiable. The dagger shaped warship had broken from the main fleet and was closing at what Captain Keys guessed to be full burn. At the same time, the rest of the Chimerea's fleet was advancing behind it.

"Let's hope that red eyed alien has skill to back up his smugness," Keyes mumbled before issuing orders to the crew.

The ship shuddered again as more explosions rocked the ship. As he worked, the captain could hear the muffled sound of small arms fire from beyond the blast doors. Captain Keyes forced himself to ignore it as he attempted to manage the battle outside.

"Captain, the Strikefast is engaging. Multiple fighters are launching from the side hangers. If the fighters are anything to go off of, the ship itself should be opening fire any second," Cortana reported.

As she spoke, multiple smaller craft appeared on the tactical readout. With battlecruisers and other dagger shaped warships moving to surround the Autumn, things were going to get crowded fast. As it was, TIE fighters were swarming the Pillar of Autumn by the dozens. Captain Keyes surveyed the situation and made his decision.

Orders had just been issued when the blast doors to the bridge hissed open. The Captain turned around as the green, armored giant marched him. Standing at two meters tall in his armor, the Spartan was imposing without a weapon. With a weapon, Keys would go as far as to say the man was terrifying… at least if you were on the wrong side.

* * *

After ducking past firefight after firefight, the Chief should have found the relative calm of the bridge soothing. He should have, but he did not. The tension was thick, and the view through the front viewports was just about as chaotic as the open warfare taking place one deck below. Men and women stood or sat at their stations hunched over control panels and monitors, while grim faced COs paced back and forth- each one issuing hushed orders to the men and women under their command.

The Chief followed the sound of Captain Keye's voice to the front of the bridge. As he marched forward, the Chief caught the back end of a conversation.

"Cortana, can you find a clean line through this mess?" Captain Key's quizzed.

"'Clean' no. 'Safe enough that we won't be ripped apart the second the Chimerea's fleet comes in range', yes. Course is set," Cortana's voice answered clinically.

"Good-" the Captain cut himself off as the Chief entered eyesight.

"Captain Keys," the Chief announced as he drew to attention.

"Chief, I apologize for the quick thaw. Things aren't going well," Captain Keyes apologized, "Cortana did her best, but we never really had a chance."

As he spoke, the Chief caught a flash of orange and purple light from outside the viewport. He nodded in acknowledgement as he watched a stream of green lasers tear into the nearest battlecruiser. The ship, which had already been seriously damaged by MAC rounds, was quickly cut to ribbons by the Dagger shaped warship below it.

"All things considered, I would say our luck is holding," Cortana argued as she appeared on the holoprojector.

Her blue, holographic form was as distinctly feminine as her voice. Her soft features and short hair gave her an appearance that could go from disarming to threatening quite easily. Though, the prior seemed to be her default state. Coupled with a surprisingly human personality and near endless amount of knowledge, Cortana was easily the best A.I. the Chief had worked with so far.

"Luck is a relative term," Captain Keyes muttered under his breath.

"Ok. Consider us lucky compared to the Strikefast. They're drawing a lot more fire than they can handle," Cortana amended.

The deck shook as another explosion ripped through the ship.

"Captain. Fire control for the main cannon is offline!" exclaimed one of the crewmen.

Cortana did the A.I. equivalent of paling as she addressed the Captain.

"Sir, the MAC was my last defensive option," she explained.

Captain Keyes lowered his head in resignation. The Chief knew what was coming next. He suspected that this was one of the reasons why he was sent to the bridge and not a contested bulkhead.

"I'm initiating Coal Protocol, Article two. It's only a matter of time now, and regulations are clear. Capture of a shipboard A.I. is unacceptable," he explained to the Chief, "This is where you come in. Get Cortana off the Autumn and keep her safe."

"While you go down with the ship?" Cortana protested, "With all due respect, this war already has enough dead heroes."

"In a matter of speaking. I'm going to try landing the Pillar of Autumn on the object we found," the Captain answered calmly, "Now get yourself sorted for a transfer."

In spite of her obvious displeasure, Cortana gave a small nod before staring blankly at them. A few seconds later, life seemed to come back into her.

"Alright, I've surrendered control to the bridge. Not that you'll listen, but I suggest letting my subroutines handle the final approach," Cortana advised.

"Thank you," the Captain accepted with a small smile before turning to the Chief, "Here. I don't keep it loaded. So, you'll have to find ammo as you go."

As Captain Keys handed over his sidearm, there was a click as Cortana's chip dislodged itself from the holoprojector. The Chief holstered the pistol before inserting Cortana's chip into the back of his helmet. A chilling sensation ran down the Chief's spine as Cortana integrated herself into the suit.

"Huh… You're suit's architecture isn't that different than the Autumn's," Cortana observed.

"Don't get any funny ideas," the Chief ordered as he made his way off the bridge.

Cortana's only response was a barely audible snicker as the two hurried to put distance between themselves and the bridge. It didn't take long for the Chief to find a dead Marine. The private was barely 10 meters from the bridge. A blackened hole in his chest plate revealed the twenty year old's cause of death. Lying around him were three dead elites and a squad of grunts. Black scoring, perforated walls, and neon colored blood told the Chief that the Covenant troops had gotten caught on the receiving end of multiple grenades.

The Covenant attack on the bridge had fallen apart. He had seen it happen. The UNSC had a number of disadvantages, but the Marines could hold their own. This was shown as fireteams bogged down the alien assault. Unfortunately, these slugging matches came at a steep price.

The Chief forced himself to focus as he snatched up an assault rifle, two frag grenades and the rest of the man's pistol ammo. Walking further down the passage, he came across another body and more ammunition. Once he was finished, the Chief followed the sound of gunfire down a set of corridors.

Through the deafening chatter, he soon heard a series of high pitched barks broken up by an occasional squawk. In the next intersection, a group of Grunts and Jackals traded fire with a squad of Marines somewhere off to the right. He quickly sized up the situation as he leveled his assault rifle.

One of the Grunts must have caught the motion out of the corner of his eye. The short creature spun around just in time to get blown away. Loud reports echoed down the passage as a barrage of 7.62 mm rounds tore into the squad. The Grunt who had seen him was thrown backward, while his partner simply crumpled against the nearby wall. A third one was sent spinning, as the Jackals threw their shields up for cover. It only took the pair a half second to realize their mistake. However, it was too late. The two bird-like creatures were blown away by the squad that they had originally been fighting.

The Marines tentatively entered the space with weapons raised. Once satisfied that they weren't going to go the way of the Covenant soldiers, the group lowered their weapons. The Sergeant's eyes briefly widened as he stared at the towering Spartan. He quickly recovered as he ejected the empty magazine from his battle rifle.

"Thanks," he said as he jammed a fresh magazine in.

Neither the Chief or the Sergeant had realized it, but one of the Jackals hadn't quite bled out yet and was reaching for his weapon. Their first and last warning was the boom of a Corporal's shotgun. Both men spun to the source of the noise, and spotted the Jackal with his hand on the plasma pistol and half of his head gone.

"Better luck next time," the Corporal taunted as he kicked the creature.

No one said anything at first as everyone's eyes turned to the floor. Four more shots rang out. Each bullet was used on someone already dead. However, the Marines responsible weren't going to take the chance. The Chief continued his trek as the Sergeant made a half-hearted attempt to chastise his men for wasting ammo. The Spartan could tell that he really didn't care, but that wasn't his problem.

As much as the Chief wanted to stay and fight, he had to get Cortana off the Pillar of Autumn. The ship's nearly constant quaking crossed with the squelching of evacuation orders through the intercom told him that time was limited.

"Fireteams Alpha and Sierra fall back to secondary defensive positions. Fireteams Zulu and November proceed to nearest escape pods." the Captain's voice ordered.

The Chief felt the impatience build inside him as he traded fire with a trio of Elites. Pressed for time, he sent two grenades off the catwalk he was currently occupying. The explosions tore through the space below, one Elite went flying, and the Chief vaulted over the railing. He landed four feet from the second Elite. Before the four jawed creature could react, the Chief closed the distance, flipped his rifle around, and drove it into the alien's head. The Elite went limp and dropped to the floor as blood trickled out from his fractured helmet.

The Chief's helmet instantly polarized as the room was replaced by a blinding white light. The helmet's built in sound dampeners were of little help as the explosion sent his ears ringing. His feet instantly went flying out from under him. Reacting off of reflex, the Chief shot his arms out. His left hand collided with a metal bar and the Chief closed his fingers in a death grip. He noticed with horror that he was clutching the upper rail of the second level catwalk. He looked up, or rather back, and saw the black void of space peering in past the other three exposed decks.

Dazed, but aware of the danger, the Chief activated his magnetic boots and swung his legs down as hard as he could. The evacuating atmosphere made the move nearly impossible, but after a second try, he succeeded in sticking his boots to what was left of the catwalk.

"The section is locking down! We need to move," Cortana shouted over the wind.

The Chief nodded as he caught sight of a door about twenty feet in front of them. By this point, the air was almost gone, and with it the wind. However, that meant little. He was now at the mercy of vacuum physics. On bad move and the Chief would become just another statistic in humanity's fight for survival. He could feel the residual heat through his boots as he picked his way across the plasma damaged structure. Making the door ahead wasn't an option. Instead, the Chief was headed for the door he had come in through. It was damaged in the fight and had failed to lock.

As his hearing returned, he could hear his shields protesting the abuse they had just taken. As the Chief stepped through the hatch, he was greeted with a pitch black passageway.

"It's a good thing that the Autumn's armor worked," Cortana commented.

"Could have fooled me," the Chief retorted as he tasted the bitter taste of recycled oxygen.

The clock was ticking. His small reserve supply was now gone, and the recycling unit would only work so long.

"If it hadn't, both of us would be fused to the reactor four decks down," the A.I. countered as she tapped into the ships local control network, "Hurry to the door and don't stop for anything. I'm going to disengage the lock. You'll have about five seconds before the security subroutines reseal the door. "

The Chief fixed his eyes on the upcoming doors as the rhythmic thumping of his boots picked up speed.

"Ready… Ready… Go!" Cortana called.

The doors snapped open. The Chief fought through the hurricane force winds with relative ease. It was the Jackal flying at him that was a surprise. The creature slammed into him as he cleared the doors. There was a hiss and the duo crashed into the, now locked, blast doors. The Chief instantly recovered and threw the creature off. Both man and beast were disarmed and stared at the plasma rifle lying further down the passage. The Jackal moved first. He met the bird halfway and wrapped the Jackal's head in his arms. The Chief wrenched each arm in a different direction and heard the neck snap as the bird went limp. Satisfied that the Covenant soldier wouldn't get up, he scooped up the contested plasma rifle and continued down the passage.

Any questions about whether the Pillar of Autumn could survive this battle intact were soon laid to rest the Chief raced for the escape pods. Covenant soldiers were appearing in smaller and smaller groups while every other door seemed to be locked or destroyed. Sparks lit up one of the maintenance corridors as another blast rocked the ship. It didn't take the Chief long to realize the same thing Cortana was realizing.

"I don't think they care about saving the pieces anymore," she commented as they passed the burning remains of a workstation.

"What was your first guess?" the Chief commented as he sent a grenade skipping down the steps ahead.

There was a deep, startled yell followed by an explosion. The Chief hurried down the steps with the plasma rifle raised. He stepped over scattered remains of two alien bodies, swung the corner at the bottom, and finished off the surviving Elite. What should have been a sixty second run to the pods was turned into a five minute production as the Chief weaved his way through another set of corridors, and forced his way past two Covenant squads, before inserting himself and another Marine into one of the last pods.

"Punch it," he ordered as he shoved the wide eyed trooper into a seat.

"With pleasure."

The doors sealed, and there was a muffle _whoomp_ as the pod shot off away from the condemned ship.

 **(ISD Chimerea)**

Admiral Thrawn stood expressionless as he watched the chaos unfold around him. On the right side of the viewport, the Strikefast drowned in a sea of fire while the Pillar of Autumn shot pieces of itself into the surrounding space. Of the three Covenant warships focused on her, two were dividing their fire between the Autumn and Imperial ships while the third one was so badly damaged that it only had half of its guns to devote to the fight. Further to the left, the rest of Thrawn's fleet was fighting to keep a lane open for the burning cylinder.

"Sir, another wave of escape pods just launched," announced the Captain.

Admiral Thrawn did some quick mental math and turned to the man.

"Very well. Disengage the fleet and pull back behind the moon. I want as much distance between us and them as possible," he ordered.

"Yes sir," the man acknowledged.

Despite the man's crisp response, there was no missing the relief in his eyes. The battle was very quickly proving itself to be unwinnable and he had no wish to die. As the Imperial fleet fought to untangle itself, Admiral Thrawn watched the Pillar of Autumn race for the surface. Although he would not say it out loud, the Admiral was quite impressed. Even with their help, the ship had taken a massive beating. It took a special kind of Captain to keep her moving and fighting.

It soon became clear that the Covenant fleet was content to occupy the space above the ring. Unlike some of his other officers, Admiral Thrawn understood why and issued orders accordingly.

"But sir, wouldn't logic dictate that they finish us off first?" the Captain was protesting.

"Generally it would. However, we are no longer a threat and that fleet didn't want people on the surface. Notice how their fighters instantly went after the pods, and notice how their guns instantly diverted from us those same craft," Admiral Thrawn explained as he gestured to various ships on the holomap.

"But why? What's down there that's so important?" the Captain pursued.

Admiral Thrawn's red eyes bore into the holomap as he answered, "That, Captain, is what Commander Corso is going to find out."


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey everyone! It took forever, but I finally have a new chapter. Just as a heads up, the next few chapters will have some jumping around in the time line. There is a lot of stuff that happens all at once. So, if you don't see something in this chapter, it'll probably be in the next.**

 **With that, thank you all for the reviews. They have been super helpful. :) That said, I would still love to know what you all think. So, please don't hesitate to leave a review regardless of what you thought.**

 **So, without further ado, I give you chapter 5...**

* * *

 **(Imperial C and C: 20 minutes later)**

The building was a fortress. Thick, grey walls shot up the hill side to make the north face, with an open air level a about a hundred feet off the base of the ground. On this level Imperials had set to work erecting barricades, and turrets behind the four foot wall that ran the perimeter. Inside, a various tunnels and wide open areas fanned out into a twelve level structure. Down below, just beyond the entrance, a defensive perimeter guarded two crude landing pads that had been carved out of the dirt.

In the heart of the structure, the command staff had established a rough operations center with a holotable, monitor stations, and a medium range comm relay. It was from this fortress that Commander Corso and Gar Saxon attempted to control chaos developing on the ring.

"Commander, the Covenant broke through. Captain Lane is pulling back to the pass," reported a grey uniformed officer from across the room.

Corso swore as he examined the holomap. Technically, he had the forces to plug the hole. Unfortunately, they're worthless when they are trapped in orbit, and without them, he was overstretched and severely outgunned. Even with Reapers and the few remaining Sentinels returning at full capacity, it was still going to be a couple hours before all of the men were consolidated, and with a at least one armored division on his doorstep, that was too long.

"Understood. What's the status on Agent Kallus?" the Commander quizzed.

"Misfit Squad is in the middle of a firefight. They haven't found him yet," Governor Saxon reported quickly as he stared at the same map.

"So they're off the table. That squad doesn't come back without Kallus," Commander Corso dismissed with a sigh.

"I understand valuing the men under your command, but isn't this a little excessive," Saxon asked as he looked up from the table.

"Frankly, on a personal level, I don't give a damn about him. That man is a spy- a glorified rat. However, he's also our rat and a walking encyclopedia. If his knowledge ends up in the wrong hands, we could lose whatever shot at survival we have left. If he's dead, I want to see the body," Commander Corso ordered, "Tell, Lane to blast the lower road and send in Third Platoon to reinforce their position. I want everyone else to start consolidating for a breakout."

Saxon nodded as he relayed orders into his helmet comm. As much as he didn't like following the trooper's lead, now was not the time to assert authority. No, that would come later.

* * *

If Tristan Wren hadn't hated his life before, he sure did now. Explosions ripped up the mountain side, as plasma and laser fire created a deadly light show along the narrow road. He motioned for the rest of the Mandalorian Platoon to fall into position as he looked for an officer of some kind. His eyes darted from spot to spot in the chaotic mass of vehicles and soldiers.

"Why do they all have to look the same?" Tristan grumbled as he ducked behind a hover tank.

Tristan flinched as the tank's heavy guns fired off. He ventured a look out from his cover and saw chunks of rock and debris go flying. Behind him, a second tank ventured off onto the steep slope. The young soldier found his senses as plasma started slamming into the tank behind him. He watched the tank commander go down with a hole in his helmet.

 _Sniper,_ he thought as he stared into his holographic site.

It didn't take him long to find the culprit. The tall, bird-like creature took off as Tristan dialed in his aim. The bird managed to make it ten feet down the wooded incline before he pulled the trigger. The blaster bucked and the bird went tumbling down as his legs gave out from under him.

Shifting his aim, Tristan spotted a Stormtrooper in a hand-to-hand fight with a four jawed creature… a fight he was clearly losing. The trooper swung out in a textbook shot at the head. The creature caught the arm with apparent ease and wrenched it back, before kicking the man down the hastily dug trench. Tristan cringed as he watched the trooper's arm snap at both the wrist and elbow. However, he now had an opening and took it. Rings of blue light cascaded across the beast as he fired laser after laser. Finally, the light disappeared as the creature when stumbling backward. With one last salvo, the alien went the way of the bird before him with three holes in his chest.

Satisfied that the creature was dead, he continued to scan the battlefield and search for targets in the chaos. Soon it became clear that Tristan was going to have to call shots for his men. Working quickly, he found holes in the line and began plugging them. Finally, he lead the last of his men up the mountain face. The climb was hard, but at the end was another road, and one AT-AT under threat of being overrun.

"What's the situation?" he quizzed as he ducked into a foxhole.

The Stormtrooper never stopped firing as he yelled out a report.

"Total shit. We have at least one armored division marching up the hill, and we can't get-argh!"

The trooper was cut off a plasma bolt punched through his plastoid chest plate. Tristan immediately found the culprit. However, before he could respond, a series of two loud screeches cut through the chaos. The twin heavy turbo blasters of the AT-AT ripped up the ground. Aliens of all kinds went flying as their two supporting tanks were blown apart. Tristan ducked as a jagged piece of metal flew overhead, before coming back up with a raised blaster.

 **(Surface of the Ring: Twenty miles South)**

"Chief! Chief! Come on. Wake up," Cortana yelled into the Spartan's helmet.

The Chief's vision was blurred as he blinked once, twice, and then a third time. His first attempt to move failed. The raging headache made sleep a tempting and easy escape. However, he forced himself awake as he heard Cortana's voice shouting in his ear. He let out a muted groan as he stood up inside the destroyed remains of the pod. A brief examination revealed that, like the rest of the passengers, the pilot hadn't made it.

"Good to see you in the land of the living," Cortana greeted before adding urgency to her tone, "I'm tracking two Covenant dropships inbound. We need to move."

The Chief nodded as he shook away the fog in his brain. On his way out, he collected an assault rifle and pistol from a dead Marine. He paused outside the craft as he inserted a fresh magazine. As he looked at the dead Sergeant, he shook his head. The kid was barely old enough to make Corporal. Forget actually having a squad of his own to command.

 _They just keep getting younger and younger,_ he thought as he tore his eyes from the man.

Sadly, this was the course of the war. The veterans were dying in droves. They were the officers and leaders. They were the ones with the targets on their backs, and thus they were generally the ones singled out by the Covenant. This continued on and on, battle by battle, and planet by planet, until there were more boots to fill then there were people. It was a textbook war of attrition… a textbook war they were losing.

"That first ship is getting close. I suggest we head for the rocks. With any luck, they'll think everyone died in the crash," Cortana suggested.

The Chief instantly saw what she was talking about. In front of him was a narrow, grey bridge that spanned across a water-filled canyon. Beyond that was another cliff face with several boulders easily big enough to conceal his two meter high frame. He nodded and took off for the rocks.

As he ran for cover, Cortana began working on her own project. While she had been busy waking up her escort, the suit had been intercepting an odd signal. It wasn't strong and was constantly changing. At first she had thought that it was the signal receiver acting up after the crash. However, now she knew better.

"That's odd," she commented as the Chief slid behind the rocks.

"What's odd?" he asked as he stared down the barrel of his rifle.

It was clear that they hadn't quite made cover in time. As a result, her answer was forced to wait as the Chief traded fire with the Covenant group. As usual, the first to go down were the Grunts. The rifle rounds cut through them like a knife through hot butter. He stepped out of cover as the surviving Elites spun toward him. He put the rest of the magazine's contents into the leader's chest before trading his rifle for his magnum. The first Elite was able to take three steps onto the bridge before his shields failed. His legs instantly buckled and the alien fell into oblivion. The next went the same way with three Magnum rounds lodged in his chest and one in his head.

"Watch it. That second ship is approaching," Cortana called.

As if to highlight her point, the ship roared overhead, with a line of plasma shells carving a path across the ground in front of it. The Chief jumped back as one such shell exploded where he had been standing.

"Huh… I thought the ship was going to land here," Cortana said as she watched the ship continue on.

"Maybe-"

The Chief was cut off by a burst of static in his ear overlaid with garbled words.

"Raven 1…. Fire… point 5-1…. Air support…"

The voice suddenly changed to a equally hard to understand but distinctly more raspy one.

"This is Commander… Imperial Army… any UNSC personnel…. respond… Is… Jade… Army…. any… personnel… please…"

The sound suddenly died and the Chef was left frozen in silence.

"What was that?" he demanded as he slowly marched forward.

"I picked up a signal earlier and was trying to isolate it. It appears that I stumbled onto someone's tactical channel in the process," Cortana explained.

"Sounds like you stumbled onto two of them," the Chief noted.

In that moment, two different engine noises turned his eyes to the sky. A fork shaped Spirit Dropship raced overhead trailing smoke behind it. Just above that line of grey, green streaks of light flew out of a smaller blackish grey fighter. The Chief watched the smoke trail grow as the majority of them ate away at the ship's armor. A few fell to either side as the condemned ship swung from side to side in a failed effort to shake its pursuer. He never saw the end of the fight as the two disappeared over the next ridge, but he could imagine it.

As soon as the ships were gone, Cortana picked up their previous conversation.

"One was a dedicated tactical channel. I'm sure, given the coding. However, the second is a wide band, looped message," she explained as she continued sifting through the incoming data.

"What's it saying?" the Chief asked as he rounded the next hill.

"I'm not totally sure- Go left," she suddenly ordered.

The Chief spun to the left expecting to see an Elite. Instead he was greeted with the same tree dotted hills that he had been hiking through.

"I don't understand," he stated as he picked his way down the hill.

"The second message is looped like I said before, but it's at the edge of our range. If we go this way for a mile or two, we should get the full message," Cortana explained.

The Chief found no reason to object and continued in that direction. The next few minutes carried on in relative silence, as Cortana worked to isolate the signal.

 **(Ten miles east of the Chief's position)**

Agent Kallus ran through the elongated room as fast as his legs would carry him. Truth be told, he didn't know where he was or where he was going but he needed to keep moving. All of his backup was dead, and the Covenant was flooding the area men and equipment. Since Kallus was the only survivor, it was clear that the op was over. He needed to take what little he knew, get back above ground, and report back to the Commander.

He paused as the room started to narrow out into a hallway. The Agent reigned in his reckless abandon as he pointed his blaster down the darkened passage. Through the thumping of his heart in his ears, Agent Kallus could hear voices echoing down the passage. He quietly sidestepped back toward a barrier along the middle of the right side wall. As his off hand drifted to his utility belt, Agent Kallus visually scanned the area. Extra attention was payed to darkened corners and visually "busy" areas like where dark grey support columns came down into the shadows behind the raised walkway. He saw nothing and turned his attention toward the hall in question while ducking down.

The seconds felt like eternity as the voices echoed in. If he had to guess, it was about a squad's worth. They weren't far away, but they weren't getting closer either. The foreign voices suddenly raised with urgency. A series of barks and squawks were cut off by a deep, bellowing voice. After that the voices faded away. This left nothing but the audible marching of feet. Except now they were getting closer. Agent Kallus heard this and armed the thermal detonator on his belt. He thumbed the switch for three seconds, squeezed the safety, and waited. After another minute, the squadron entered the room with their weapons raised. He risked another look around the barrier as he timed his move. As the last creature entered, the four-jawed creature motioned them to a stop.

"Human," the man muttered bitterly as he sniffed the air.

Agent Kallus caught his breath as the creature barked orders in his native tongue. As the creatures began to step away into their respective areas of responsibility, he let go of the trigger, counted to two, and threw it. The detonator hit the walkway with a metallic clank. The leader had just enough time to yell.

 _BOOM!_

Everyone disappeared in a flash of white light as the explosion tore through the elongated room. The Kallus winced with pain as the searing heat washed across his exposed face. Ignoring it, he immediately rose with his blaster leveled. However, there was no one to shoot. The four-jawed leader and two birds were splattered across opposite walls, while the short pointed creatures were burned to a crisp against one of the barriers closer to the passage.

He attempted to put the gory scene out of his head as he hurried on. In the darkness, he motion caught his eye. Compensating for movement, he fired once, heard a squeal of pain as one stumbled, and fired twice more. Flashes of red lit up the hall and Kallus watched two of the shorter creatures go down. He ignored the bodies and continued on.

As he pressed forward, Agent Kallus began to recognize landmarks in the maze of grey. One of them was the darkness. The lights on this level seemed to be spotty. Major junctions and rooms seemed to have them, but narrower hallways- maintenance passages if he had to guess- lacked the decent light. If he had to guess, it was a way to conserve power, but he didn't know and right now, he didn't care. As Kallus rounded a corner, he gunned down two Jackals and a floating creature of some kind. Of course it had to happen before Kallus recognized the markings above of the door in question.

 _Should've let them go in_ , he thought with a shudder.

He and his squad had made the mistake of trying to get through there. Agent Kallus had gotten them past the door, but that was all the further they got. Within seconds, the room had flooded with some type of flying security droids, and extremely accurate auto turrets. Three of the ten Death Troopers had gone down before they could even level their weapons, while the rest of them had barely made it out alive.

His memory of the incident caused his to give a backward glance as he continued on. Agent Kallus forced himself to focus as he came up on the next door. He quickly ducked as he brought his pace down to a slow creep. Beyond, he could hear voices. However, there was no way to know how many without opening the door. Now he had a problem. He could roll a grenade through the door and hope for the best. The confined space should clear everyone, and then he could simply race for the lift he needed. It was only a ten yard dash to the entry. However, with the way the Covenant seemed to be opening doors and appearing out of nowhere, he was sure that they were into the security system. Given how advanced that system had proven to be already, Kallus was sure that a blast would pinpoint his position.

"Then where are they?" he asked himself as he looked back behind down the passage he had come through.

If this system was that touchy, the thermal detonator ten minutes back should have brought his whole world crashing down. Yet, there was nothing more than isolated sentries and half-assed barricades that a cadet could shoot his way around.

Suddenly the entire ground quaked as a muffled explosion resonated through the walls. Above him, Kallus heard the sound of muffled small-arms fire. Two seconds later, there was a series of smaller explosions, and what sounded like an urgent conversation. Soon after, Kallus heard footsteps race away from the door.

"Thank the Force for distractions," he said out loud as he thumbed the firing rate selector on his blaster.

He rushed the door, and as expected, the defenders spun around. Before they could react, he squeezed the trigger and sent a flood of lasers down range. Energy shields went flying as the two birds when down with holes in both their backs and sides. Agent Kallus ducked back as plasma rounds slammed into the door frame. He did the metal math and produced what he thought was a grenade. His confidence was limited considering he had lifted it off a dead enemy that he knew next to nothing about. He thumbed what he hoped was the activation switch. The sphere glowed blue and Kallus pitched it blindly down the passage.

There was a yell followed by an explosion. He swung his rifle up and pointed it down the passage. He looked just long enough to see that the grenade had harmlessly exploded against the wall, before finding the first target and firing. Much to his surprise, the grenade had done some damage. Both of the four-jawed creatures went down with minimal effort. The first only took two shots to the head to get through his shields, while the second only took a five round burst. Satisfied, he raced forward to meet up with his rescue party.

 **(Imperial C and C)**

Commander Corso did a last minute check of the seals on his helmet as he raced down the passage. In front of him, techs and lower ranking troopers hurried to get the last of the supplies out from the base. All of the non-combat and non-communications gear had been purged of useful data and left behind. As he walked outside into the smoke-tinted sunlight, he stepped passed a demolitions crew.

"How's it going?" he asked as he willed himself to ignore the vehicle behind him.

"Good. Is everyone out?" one of the bomb techs quizzed.

"Yes."

"Good," the man responded as he crimped together two wires, " 'Cause as of… right… now… The first person to step through one of these doors is going to raise this entire slope."

Commander Corso nodded with satisfaction as his eyes picked apart the set up.

"Good. Get your gear and load up," he ordered as he headed for the center vehicle.

The vehicle he hurried toward was a massive A6 Juggernaut tank. The eight wheeled giant stood at 30.4 meters tall and was a rolling fortress. For armament, the vehicle sported two rapid fire, forward facing missile packs, and six blaster cannons of varying strength. These included everything from antipersonnel blasters to heavy cannons that could punch a hole through anything shy of AT-AT plating. All of this was built into and around five inches of superconducting armor. Although she was built to hold up against laser fire, everything was riding on this armor's ability to not only disperse heat but take abuse from projectiles with a hard kinetic punch.

"This is Delta flight, we're approaching the line. ETA: ten minutes," crackled a voice in Corso's ear.

"Understood, we are rolling out," he acknowledged as he exited out the same door Governor Saxon was entering.

Saxon nodded as he gave orders to the convoy. Seconds later, the Juggernaut's engine roared to life as the two pilots worked the controls. Outside, Commander Corso fell in with the infantry. While his survival instincts protested the idea of marching into a battlefield on foot, the practical side of him knew that the infantry escorts would need orders and the smart side of him knew that it was the best way to earn the respect and loyalty of the Super Commandos working with him.

"Copy that. Hold on to your buckets down there," concluded the pilot before signing off

* * *

Captain Lane wiped the mud from her helmet visor as she listened to the words crackling in through her helmet.

"Understood. Is there anything we need to do?" she asked as she shot down one of the suicidal pointed creatures.

Corso's answer was drowned out as the creature's grenade ripped him apart.

"This is Lancer 1. I didn't copy. Say again," she requested as she scowled at what was left of the creature.

Between this Covenant and Jeda before, she was seriously getting tired of suicidal fanatics.

"Clear a hole and get ready to fall in. Anyone who can't keep up gets left behind," the Commander reported.

"Yes sir. Troops and armor are consolidating around the high road. Be advised, they are starting to flank behind and we don't have the troops left to effectively counter," she warned as an AT-ST went down in a ball of fire.

"Understood. We'll deal with them. ETA two minutes," the Commander responded.

"Roger. Lancer 1 out," she concluded with a sigh.

"So, what's the deal?" Tristan yelled over the blaster fire.

"Hell if I-" an explosion sent both of them ducking, "Just get your men ready to move. We leave in two," she ordered.

Tristan nodded and opened a frequency in his helmet comm.

"Third platoon form up on the road. We're leaving," he ordered.

* * *

Captain Judara was an experienced pilot. Of his ten years driving armored vehicles, three had been spent driving an AT-ST, four had been in an AT-AT under General Veers, while the next six had been spent at the controls of this monstrosity. As he watched the terrain readouts, he had the utmost confidence in this vehicle's ability to get down off of this mountain. He also had the utmost confidence in this vehicle's ability to steamroll over those Covenant freaks and their armor. What he didn't have confidence in was his ability to do both with little to no air support.

"How are we looking?" asked Governor Saxon from behind him.

Judara shook his head. It was a matter of personal goals, in his opinion. For his copilot and backup gunners, it looked great. They were rolling into a target rich environment with little to no rules of engagement outside "don't hit the good guys". For him, it looked like a hellscape of twisting paths eight feet too narrow and an ever shifting ground that he had to navigate while not running over the wrong people. For Corso and Saxon, it looked like a brutal test of endurance and trust.

"Fine. Once we round this bend, we'll be in the canyon and in hostile territory," he advised before clicking on the intercom and declaring, "Keep your eyes peeled. I'm getting a lot of chatter about crowded skies ahead."

"Roger that," acknowledged the second gunner from the back.

The copilot simply nodded as he began removing the safeties from their missile pods and forward heavy batteries.

"Increasing speed twelve percent. Rancor 1 and Rancor 2 be advised. I'm taking the lead," Captain Judara advised as he opened the throttle.

"Roger. We've got your rear, and AT-STs have your front," responded one of the Walker Commanders.

"Here comes the fun," he mumbled as the first Covenant vehicles came into view.

"Targeting the leader," announced the copilot.

"Forget him. Focus on the ones off at point five," the Captain ordered.

With that he put more gas in and roared forward. The tank shuddered as plasma rounds slammed into the tanks forward armor.

 _Fwoosh! Fwoosh! Fwoosh! Fwoosh!_

A string of concussion missiles sailed over the first couple tanks and exploded into a massive fireball two hundred yards further back. Shrapnel and bodies went flying in all directions as the tanks were ripped apart, and their smaller escorts were sent skipping off to Force-knows-where.

However, this was not a lucky break for the lead tanks. The A6 shuddered violently as plasma shell after plasma shell slammed into the forward armor plates. Two of the vehicles exploded as the escorting AT-ATs added in their own fire. However, the effect was only minimal. Alarms still wailed as other vehicles and infantry units jumped in. He was about to rescind his order when they made contact with the first tank. The leaders were smart enough to swing out of the way, but the tank crew behind had been overzealous and it cost them as wheel one smashed them into a lifeless purple heap. The Juggernaut never slowed as wheels two, three, and four ground the vehicle and her crew into the hard packed dirt.

* * *

Tristan watched as the Covenant's flanking maneuver break into a million dead and burning pieces as the Imperial column roared down the mountain road. Entire squads disappeared in clouds of dirt and fire as concussion missiles and red anti-armor lasers kissed the dirt. Trees splintered and bodies went flying as dirt and debris came down like rain. However, through the chaos, he knew there were survivors. There had to be. The tanks were moving too fast and the explosions were spaced out too far to hit everyone. This is where the infantry came in. About two dozen stormtroopers picked up the rear and gazed into the smoke- their eyes searching for immanent threats.

Tristan's eyes widened into saucers as the tank rolled by. However, a stray plasma shot refocused him. Tristan leveled his rifle and continued to fire as the vehicles lumbered by. He soon found that no one was waiting for any threats to materialize, and was forced to trade accurate shots for a faster pace so as to keep up with the wave of Imperials pushing down the mountain.

Up in the Juggernaut, Captain Judara swore he felt the road give out from under his right front wheels. Without really thinking, he muted the speakers as a fresh set of alarms started blaring. Judara dumped extra power into the left wheels, pulled the left control stick clear back, and laid in on the throttle. The effect was delayed, but the tank pulled itself back up to the road.

"Damn, it!" he shouted as an enemy fighter traced a line of plasma cross his hull, "Cullman, you're falling behind."

"I can only shoot in one direction at a time," the rear gunner called back as he swung the rotary blaster around toward a new line of attackers.

Judara ignored the statement as he continued to steer the tank. That is, he tried to steer the tank. Between the constant explosions, ever shifting ground, and twenty percent downgrade. One could argue that he was little more than a passenger.

Behind him, Saxon's red and white helmet hid the fear in his eyes as he clung to the closest handrail. Unlike the driver, he had nothing to distract him from the warfare outside. He watched as explosions blasted out chunks of the mountain, listened as casualty reports flooded the comm channels, and vehicles (friendly and hostile) went down in blazes of fire. However, the real danger was just beginning.

* * *

Tristan's blaster clicked twice and he tried pulling the trigger. He swore as he swung his off hand down to his utility belt. In one fluid motion, he ejected the depleted energy cartridge before jamming in the new one. His blaster gave a satisfied chirp as it accepted the ammunition.

Just then, two black, rounded shadows raced across him. Tristan looked up and watched as the leader broke apart against a wall of laser fire. As the first one went down in a burning heap, the second one found a seam and matched it's speed with the Juggernaut it was flying over.

"Raven Squad, on me," he ordered as he activated his jetpack.

Behind him, ten Mandalorians followed suit and took to the sky. The dropship was quick to respond as it pulled away. Orbs of purple plasma cut through the squad as they raced for the top deck. Tristan was forced to duck and weave as he tried to stay ahead of an overzealous gunner. Down below, two squads of Covenant troops descended onto the top deck of the Juggernaut.

Saxon, threw the hatch open as he came up blaster first. He was forced to duck back down the hatch as a series of plasma rounds streaked by. Risking a look back up, he found the offending creature and shot it off the vehicle. Switching his aim, he targeted the four-jawed creatures trading fire with the rapidly closing Mandalorians. However, he only got three shots off before he was forced to duck again. This time it was as a massive plasma beam- bigger than the rest- broadsided the Juggernaut. The tank jerked right, and more than a few shots went astray. He didn't see much of the vehicle that attacked them besides the fact that it was smaller than them and had legs.

"Captain, what the hell was that?" he demanded.

"Don't know," replied Captain Judara through gritted teeth.

"What do you know?" he muttered, as he continued to fight with the attackers.

"Lots of things, like our life expectancy if we take more blows like that," the Captain retorted over the channel Saxon had left open.

As if to highlight his point, one of the purple, four legged walkers suddenly stormed out of the trees further up the road. The leading AT-ST was slagged without so much as a whisper from her two man crew. The larger AT-AT fared better, as the first shot struggled to cut through her broad side armor. However, the off balance walker went stumbling the wrong direction and an entire section of the road gave out under the AT-AT's right leg. The leg followed the road down and took the tank with it in a trail of dust and debris that lead all six hundred feet to the bottom of the canyon.

Gar Saxon forced himself to refocus on his own battle as another drop ship came overhead. This time, it was a fork shaped one that had slipped through the opening created in their flank. By this time, Tristan's squad had landed topside and was waiting for them. Two rockets into the deployment bay ensured that only half the ship's compliment made it onto the deck. The others were either blown to pieces or thrown clear of the entire battle site. Saxon quickly finished pulling himself up through the hatch. Something that likely saved his life.

Suddenly, four large, purple beams slammed into the side of the besieged Juggernaut. All four beams hit the left side grenade pack, and no one needed instrument readouts to tell them the fight for the tank was lost.

"Off the-"

Whatever Tristan was going to yell was drowned out as every concussion missile left in that side's magazine exploded in an earsplitting blast. The frame buckled and twisted to the right as two of the axles snapped under the sudden force of the explosion. Saxon felt himself go flying as the blast washed over him. The edge of the tank came and went as he slammed back first into an evergreen tree. The last thing he saw before blacking out was a wall of grey falling toward him.

* * *

 _BOOM!_

Commander Corso's head exploded in pain the shock wave threw him to the ground. That same blast consumed two of the Juggernaut's escorts in a fiery inferno, and atomized an unknown number of Covenant troopers to the left side.

"Get… off… the… road," Corso gasped as he fumbled for his blaster.

His hands latched on to something metal, and he brought it up into his blurry line of sight. Despite the adrenaline pumping through his body, Corso still felt his stomach roll as he removed the severed hand clinging to his newly found blaster.

As Commander Corso tried desperately to gain control of the situation, the surviving AT-ATs reacted viciously to the destruction of their leader. The three walkers hadn't even found solid footing yet before their heads were spinning toward their shorter prey. Red lasers sliced through energy shields before hitting solid matter. The purple walkers had come in at a perfect angle to broadside the A6 Juggernaut. However, this left the less effective plasma cannons to counter the AT-ATs until they could bring their main guns back to bare. Two went down in short succession before their main plasma cannons could come around. Faced with overwhelming fire, the two Covenant walkers covered their retreat with solid wall of plasma that took down two more of their Imperial counterparts.

Down on the ground, Commander Corso began barking orders to get off the mountain as he began frantically searching for Gar Saxon. The man was a pain in the ass, but he was the Emperor's pain in the ass. That meant that he didn't get to die on Corso's watch.

"First Platoon get to the Juggernaut. Bring two transports, and demolition equipment with you," he barked.

"This is Echo 1. We've got Tristan. We've got Saxon. Heading back to the column. The rest are KIA… or soon to be," reported one of the Mandalorians.

"Roger," he acknowledged before opening all of the Imperial channels, "This is Commander Corso to all units. Get off the mountain. Rendezvous at rally point Bravo. I repeat. All units, rendezvous at rally point bravo. Corso out."

Commander Corso blinked away the memories as he linked up with First Platoon at the twisted remains of their tank. He had seen wrecks like this before, and, like before, it wasn't pretty. A brief peek through the crushed from viewport showed both pilots dead at the controls. He ignored the two as he used the broken port as first a hand hold, then a foot hold to get on top of the tank.

"First squad on me. The rest of you, post security. We're going to be a minute," Commander Corso ordered as he kicked in the damaged side hatch.

"Better be a quick minute," muttered the Lieutenant as he disappeared inside.

The next few minutes were a blur of motion as blasters, aid packs, and trenching equipment were all strapped to the hover tanks. At the same time that his was happening, two men worked furiously to set thermal detonators for remote activation before rolling them down the barrels of the right side missile launcher.

"Last one," called one of the men over the sound of blaster fire.

"Good," Corso acknowledged before opening his comm link, "How do things look, Lieutenant?"

"We have an exit if we leave now," he reported between blaster shots.

Commander Corso paused for a second as he surveyed the inside of the Juggernaut. There was a lot that they were leaving behind. Unfortunately, most of the equipment was trapped in the back hold behind two bodies and about three tons of twisted metal. Corso let out a sigh as he accepted the situation.

Fifteen seconds after the Lieutenant's report, he answered, "Good, 'cause that's what we're doing."


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello, everyone! It's been a while, but I finally have a new chapter. Just a reminder, I love to know what you all think. So, sit back, enjoy, and don't forget to say hi. :)**

 **Without further ado, I give you Chapter 6...**

* * *

Sergeant Johnson watched from his perch in the rocks. Down below, several humanoids escorted a hovercraft vehicle down the rocky path. Even from a distance, he could tell that they were in a sorry state. Their armor was once bleach white. That much was clear. However, now it was a muddy-cream color with streaks of brown, red, and differing neon colors. No, one was walking straight, and Johnson could see at least two of the people were nursing wounds. Suddenly, one staggered. His legs tangled up as he dropped out of the formation.

"Stay put," he ordered over the squad frequency.

Sergeant Johnson gave his order as he snaked his way down through the rocks for a better look. By this time, a small group had formed around the injured being. There was a barely audible, but distinctly artificial voice. The culprit was discovered to be another with an orange pauldron on. Within fifteen seconds of group had broken up, leaving just the superior and the mortally injured soldier. The superior guided the person into a roughly horizontal position. The being spasmed with pain as pressure was applied to the wound. Sergeant Johnson's own wince was turned into a gasp as the man's helmet came off.

"What the hell?" he exclaimed.

Johnson's exclamation was not internal or silent. He knew this and retreated back into the shadows as his mind raced. The being was human. The pale white skin and slick black hair gave testament to that fact.

He trailed off as his brain flooded with possibilities. With too many to count and other, more pressing priorities, he focused on the soldiers.

* * *

Commander Corso forced himself to look away as the medic peeled off the trooper's helmet. As the medic set to work on the bleeding and checking the man's head, Corso turned in a slow, deliberate, circle while playing security for the duo. He slowed his turn as he stared up the rocky slope and was rewarded with nothing but the squawking of native birds.

"How… How bad is it?" asked the young soldier.

"Nothing we can't fix," the medic lied, "Here bite on this."

"What- Argh!"

Corso cringed as the stormtrooper let out a muffled yell. He had had his share of shrapnel wounds cleaned before. Despite all of the advancements in medical technology, there was still no good way to make the process faster or less painful.

"One minute," Corso stated as things fell silent.

"I'm hurrying," the medic bit out as he dug through his pack.

The Commander simply nodded as he shifted his gaze down toward a line of trees. The next few seconds felt like forever as Commander Corso listened to the drone of the tank's engines fade away as it disappeared around the mountain. In its place reigned silence and pained groans.

"There, it's as good as its going to get. Keep it as clean and patched as possible. Here's your helmet and your blaster. On your feet," the medic ordered, before turning to the Commander, "We're ready."

Commander Corso, nodded as he did his own brief, visual examination of the injured private. The twenty-year-old was pale and looked like a stiff breeze might knock him back down. The noticeable shaking traveled down through his arms and into the blaster, while his off hand was wrapped across the bandage. However, the trooper was vertical again, and that's what mattered.

* * *

Sergeant Johnson had been frozen in place by the humans' watchful gaze. Even when the officer wasn't looking, the person working on the injured soldier kept looking right at his hiding spot. This forced Johnson to stay down, until the person was finished.

"Mendez, Li, how's it looking?" he hissed.

"Holding steady, they're going down below tree level," Mendez whispered.

As he had been watching, Sergeant Johnson had sent two of his men to shadow the convoy, and three more move to link up with another escape pod that had crashed nearby. This left him and one more to shadow the trio down below. Smaller numbers were better for shadowing, and this made his squad less of a target. He had learned from previous experience that larger groups tended to draw more Covenant attention.

"Alright, we're moving," he responded as he risked a glanced down at the road.

He whipped his head back as the officer spun around. Johnson looked back over his shoulder as he adjusted his hold on his rifle. Something had clearly caught the man's attention. The question was if that something was a threat. A look revealed nothing except more boulders and the occasional wind-battered tree.

"Carman, do you see anything at your 2 o'clock?" he asked with a frown.

"Negative… just birds, rocks, and way too much open space," the Corporal answered between attempts to find a halfway comfortable position.

"Alright. Let's go up over top. We'll pick them up as they rounded the corner," Johnson ordered over the comm.

"Roger. I've got your climb covered," Carman acknowledged.

 **(Dragon Flight: 100,000 km above the atmosphere)**

In space there is only one way… the right way. In space there is no mourning. For in space no one can hear your screams. They say that space is the quickest cure for any "infection of religion".

On these matters, Commander Riker called BS. Nothing got you closer to your religion of choice than watching your wing man get blown to pieces. There was no such thing as the right way. There was only the way that got the job done and the way that kept you alive. Those weren't always one and the same. In space, no one heard you scream except every person on your squad frequency.

It was halfway through a barrel roll, with plasma polarizing his viewport, that he was reminded of this. Suddenly, two alarms started screeching inside his helmet. Rikers eyes widened into saucers as he jerked back on the control yoke. His TIE shuddered as purple flooded his vision. Commander Riker leveled out even as close to the Corvette as he could get away with. As he did a quick visual scan for the rest of his flight, the Commander reached up and flipped two switches. The second alarm fell silent and the Commander rolled off the corvette and toward what was left of his squadron.

"This is Dragon leader, to Chimerea: We cleared the picket line, but those cruisers are tearing us apart," he called as he closed the distance between himself and a Covenant fighter.

He ignored the ensign's half-assed response as he squeezed both triggers on the control yoke. A stream of green lights shot out from under the cockpit before drilling into the fighter's shielding. Purple flames shot from impact points as the ship broke off its attack. Despite the hasty retreat, Riker knew not to count the fighter out and called it out to his wing man. Those ships were tough and maneuverable. For a pilot in an unarmored ball, those purple teardrops were his worst nightmare come true. Add on to the fact that those flames seemed to disappear after a bit of time, it looked like the fighters were capable of self-repair. This was all the more discomforting when he remembered that not even the new interceptors could do that.

As the Covenant fighter retreated, he fell into formation next to another TIE fighter.

"This is Dragon Leader to all dragons, mark my position and-"

He was cut off as the other fighter vaporized in a flash of purple and white light. Before Commander Riker could regain full control of his fighter, a dozen purple orbs came barreling toward him. The squad frequency suddenly came to life as the plasma rounds cut through the loose formation.

"Watch the fire off that right-side spire," called one pilot.

He ducked under one round and threw his fighter into a roll that sent two shells streaking past with only inches to spare.

"I see it. Stay high," he answered as he tightened his craft.

"Fighters at two-ten!" called another.

"I see 'em," acknowledged one squad leader before issuing orders over a different frequency.

"Stay loose, but bring it in," Riker ordered as he tried to bring his fighter above the worst of the plasma fire, "The last thing we need is to be drawn into one on one battles."

"Phantom squad is engaging that pack of fighters," announced the squad leader.

Although the timing made it sound like the squad leader was trying to countermand Commander Riker, Riker knew better.

"Confirmed... we'll be behind shortly," he slowly acknowledged as he watched a purple circle form in front of one of the lead battlecruisers.

"What the hell?" he muttered as the ship's ionic output spiked.

Before he knew it, the ship had disappeared- leaving nothing but the black void of space in it's wake.

'Wait… Disappeared? These aren't—' Commander Riker cut off the thought as he switched over to the Chimerea's channel.

"This is Dragon leader, we just had a battlecruiser disappear. I repeat, one of the ships has disappeared from the formation," he called as he fought a plasma shell for control of his fighter.

The Commander cringed as two friendly IFF tags disappeared off his scopes. These matched with two flashes of light in his peripheral vision.

"This is Fleet control, we saw that. All squads are to fall back into formation. I repeat, all ships fall back into- What in the…"

 **(ISD Chimerea)**

Like a phantom awoken from its slumber, the battlecruiser materialized in the Chimerea's forward viewport. Admiral Thrawn shelved his own shock and awe as he mentally picked apart the ship. It was an elegant machine, with a dark purple hull that curved into an organic ship. Aesthetically, it was better than anything the Chiss or Empire had ever produced. Of course, that said nothing about her weapons systems, and after the duel over the Pillar of Autumn, they didn't need to.

Thrawn's mouth opened to give out orders, when a young ensign called out, "Sir, major plasma spike under the bow."

"All ahead full," Thrawn commanded instantly, "Take us hard to starboard and cut the forward stabilizer on that same side."

The helm, the Captain, the ensign, and his commanding officer all gave dumbfounded looks. However, in keeping with Imperial decorum, no orders were questioned as the ship spiraled out away from the formation. As the bridge pitched downward, Thrawn caught a glimpse of the energy beam charging beneath the ship.

Localized shielding alarms wailed as the beam glanced off the port side. However, as would later be reported, these were simply the local ray shields being forced to cycle. The real damage was done to the ship below the Chimerea, who's captain had misjudged the magnitude of the threat.

The glassing beam slammed into the ship with a force that off the high end of every chart used. Two seconds after impact, all shielding failed. Fire gushed from the center of the ship as the secondary reactor was breached. Capitalizing on the damage, the battlecruiser turned several of its downward facing plasma cannons on the ship. Round after round tore through the durasteel hull. As super-heated plasma touched off explosions in various ammo dumps and the secondary fuel storage, men and droids alike were sucked into the harsh vacuum of space through holes big enough to land a fighter in.

Within a couple minutes, power surges and cascading explosions were ripping apart the Imperial-Class ship without Covenant help. At the same time, the Chimerea and the rest of the 7th fleet had recovered from their shock and were bring their own guns into the fight. However, before any real damage could be done, the Covenant cruiser had disappeared into the safety of Slipspace.

 **(CAS Seeker of Truth)**

Supreme Commander Thel 'Vadamee was not new to his profession. He had commanded many different ships against many different enemies. If there was one thing that he had learned, it was that no two races and even no two people fought the same. This much was clear as he watched the video feed of his battlecruiser's attack. He watched as his ship appeared over the target. By all tense and purposes, the enemy ship was dead to rights. That is, until it pulled one last maneuver. The ship pitched hard to the right. So eager was it to dive out of the way, that it rolled through the move bringing all of its guns away from the fight. Were it not for the dimwitted nature of the other vessel's shipmaster, Vadamee might have nothing to show for the attack, but a scarred warship and wasted plasma rounds.

"Clever… very clever," Thel Vadamee muttered as the holoprojector beeped behind him.

Thel let out a muted grumble as he marched over to the projector and hit the answer key.

"I see that your venture failed," the Minor Prophet of Stewardship purred as he came into view.

Thel wiped all traces of anger from his voice before countering, "Quite the contrary. We sent a message. They understand our firepower, and the twisted remains of one of their own floats among the formation. This enemy will think twice before attacking. That in turn frees up more forces for the ground assault."

"But their flagship lives." the minor Prophet reminded him, "And you have said yourself that this is a different enemy."

"It is a different enemy, but it is still a human enemy," the Supreme Commander dismissed.

Inwardly he knew that this Fleetmaster was different from the others their reports had recorded. This was no standard officer. However, he wasn't going to start letting this minor Prophet begin questioning his methods and tactics. The High Prophet of Truth knew of his status and had assured Thel that he would be given complete control over his fleet and army. However, with the discovery of the sacred ring: "Halo", Stewardship would be given command as per the Reclamation Protocol. Unfortunately, with the arrival of the humans, the jurisdiction would now be called into question.

"Of course. What about operations on the surface? I heard of the battle with these new humans. I trust the loss hasn't hindered our efforts?" The prophet Stewardship asked, deftly jumping tracks.

"The attack by their beasts was a setback. However, the sites that you deemed of great importance…", Thel answered hesitantly, "…have not been hit. We are proceeding on schedule."

"I see. Then, all going well, I presume." he acknowledged as he stroked his chin.

"There is the matter of the human forces. They do present a real threat. I will command the fleet and coordinate the ground forces to wipe them out, as soon as I contact High Charity." 'Vadamee admitted.

"You have your strike teams. Use them. High Charity will not be able to connect with the fleet due to our position, As per the Reclamation Protocol, I am to assume all command of the fleet and ground forces at my current disposal." the Stewardship declared, "War is but a temporary, albeit necessary, state. The Great Journey, the journey that we work towards, is forever."

Thel 'Vadamee clenched his fists harder and harder as he listened to the prophet Stewardship rattle on through some off-the-cuff religious speech. Thel knew exactly what Stewardship was doing, and little of it had to do with religion. It was politics at the expense of his operations. The Prophet wanted to take credit for securing the ring and ensure that 'Vadamee took the fall for any failures. Finally, the Prophet of Stewardship finished and 'Vadamee immediately cut in.

"Minor Prophet, the humans are preparing to assault our stronghold in the east," Thel proclaimed as he called up a map of the grassy hill in question, "You have been harassing them with T-26 Banshees. Even a rapid assault force was sent to intercept them. Both failed. Without reinforcements, I see no reason why the hill will stay in our possession, due to your command of our ground forces."

"Are you questioning the capability of your men?" the Prophet asked with a raised eyebrow.

He did not like what Thel was insinuating…

Stewardship's predatory smirk told Thel the trap that he was walking into. Thel took a second to answer as he picked and arranged his words.

"No," he finally answered, "These are skilled soldiers worthy of their station. However, this is not a task I would have presented to them. There are other, equally pressing missions that I would have assigned them to."

Thel allowed the closest thing to a smirk that his four jaws would allow as the Prophet of Stewardship glared daggers. 'Vadamee had just pinned this impending failure and the preceding ones on the Prophet for choosing the men to be assigned to this mission. Finally losing his patience, Stewardship slammed his fist down on his hoverchair.

"I have had quite enough of this debate, Fleetmaster. The forces under my command will be deployed as instructed. Their worthiness of the task should not be in question. For that would reflect most poorly on you. Is that clear?" Stewardship snapped in a raspy, quaking voice.

Thel winced from the pain as it radiated from every joint in his fingers. Yet, he still clenched them tighter and tighter until his answered.

"Of course, Minor Prophet. But know this. I will make contact with High Charity and inform the Hierarchs of the situation, and they will turn command of the fleet and ground forces back to me, once they have been informed of the human's presence on the sacred ring," he acknowledged as he forced his hands to un-ball.

 **(Surface of the Ring: 1 hour later)**

"They've gotta have an entire army in there," Johnson muttered as he ducked behind a log.

Li didn't answer as he continued to stare through his set of binoculars. Up ahead, was a not-quite clearing in the trees at the base of a cliff. Running through the mountainside was a tunnel, where Johnson had spent the last twenty minutes watching four and two legged walkers; plus more of those hovercraft vehicles go into. As this was happening, white armored soldiers approached in one's two's, squads, platoons, and other small unit designations. Some disappeared into tunnel while others took up defensive positions along the perimeter.

"Hey, we've got some new guys," reported Mendez over the comm.

"I see 'em," Carman confirmed from his own vantage point.

"Where?" Johnson quizzed as he borrowed Li's binoculars.

"Just left of post one," answered Mendez.

Johnson quickly found the nearest sniper nest, designated "post 4", and went straight back to the cliff, then right. Sure enough, a humanoid in similar colored, but notably different, armor was about three feet away from the tree holding a sniper team (post 1) and was approaching the officer that Johnson and Carman had followed down. He was a tall person with some red highlights on his once white armor. Despite being the same color as the rest, his armor was much less organic in its shape. Even through the binoculars, Sergeant Johnson could see the abuse that the armor had taken. Blood and dirt painted his armor, while spidering cracks could be seen snaking out from an elongated dent between the shoulder blades.

* * *

Down in the clearing, the UNSC was the last thing on Gar Saxon's mind as he made his way out from the relative safety of the tunnel. The space didn't feel nearly as massive as it was with the AT-ATs standing only inches away from the ceiling and only a few meters apart. Of course, this "empty" space was filled with things such as the smaller AT-STs; seven or eight speeder bikes; an equal number of hover-tanks; and vehicle crews racing to and from as they made rushed, but critical, repairs. All in all, it was a very claustrophobic space that he was glad to get out of.

"Commander," addressed Governor Saxon as he came within an acceptable distance.

Commander Corso turned around to see the Governor walking toward him with his helmet on. Despite the man's attempt to look fine, Saxon's cracked, dented, and plasma marked armor coupled with uneasy steps and an obvious preference toward his left leg made the man's injuries clear.

"You look good for a man that tried to fly," Corso observed with a thin smile.

"I've had worse. What's the situation? The medic kept running off most of the officers, claiming that they knew their orders," Gar Saxon quizzed as he scowled at a passing medic.

"Not good. Connecting with the UNSC seems to be easier said than done, and most of the recon teams are bogged down in firefights. The main bulk of our armored force, or at least what's left of it, is here. I want to get moving within the next few minutes, and get off this slope. Bunched up like this, we're just asking for an orbital strike," Corso answered quickly.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say that you've been on the receiving end before," Saxon chided.

"Wish I could say differently," Corso answered as he turned his gaze downward.

Governor Saxon was taken aback by the severity with which Commander Corso answered. Before he could say anything, Commande Corso spoke up again.

"Oh, there is one group that we've had unofficial contact with," he added.

"Who's that?" Saxon asked with a raised eyebrow.

"It's a UNSC team, that followed first platoon and I in. I'm guessing their recon. We'll find out when I finally get tired of the shadow," Corso explained.

"Why not now, before you tip our entire hand?" Saxon demanded.

The Commander shrugged as he answered, "They're human. So, they aren't with the Covenant, and if they are recon, they'll have a long range comm unit on them. Part of our problem is that with the Covenant jammers, we can't seem to stay connected long enough to figure out the channel changing sequence. They keep dropping out of range, and, without the A-6's better equipment, we have to restart every time the connection is lost. With none of the other UNSC personnel willing to give it to us…"

"...All you have are the really short-range squad frequencies… but, with these guys sitting right outside the perimeter, we are in range, even with jammers and poor terrain," the Governor reasoned.

"Yes," Corso answered with an air of pride.

"Good. How close are you to being finished?" Saxon asked with a nod.

"Don't know. That'll depend on the technicians inside," he gestured as he pointed at one of the AT-ATs.

"Well, have you at least gotten into the squad frequency?" the Governor pressed.

The impatience that seemed to hold permanent residence in his voice quickly returned as he grew more uncomfortable with the idea of being watched.

"Yes. They're using relative position calls. So, finding their exact locations isn't going to happen without an obvious search. However, we know there are four of them. The leader is one 'Sergeant Johnson'," Corso explained.

The answer did little to ease Governor Saxon's nerves, and he let the matter drop with a barely audible, bitter response. Commander Corso, felt his own impatience kicking in as another duo of speeder bikes came racing in.

"Go, check with Lieutenant Vell. See how close we are. I'll debrief the scouts," Commander Corso ordered as he turned away.

"Are you sure? That does seem to be your pet project." Saxon called after him.

"Yes, but you need something to do." he confirmed with a dismissive wave.

 **(The Ghost: somewhere in Hyperspace)**

Kanan shifted positions as he examined the various screens and controls. Some controlled functions like steering, thrust, and shielding. While, other nobs and buttons controlled the climate control and atmospheric make up. He looked up from the controls as Hera slid into the copilot's seat. As the door hissed shut, he could hear Ezra and Zeb in the back arguing about something.

"I swear, if we don't get there soon, Sabine's going to kill both of them," he commented as he turned his attention back to the readouts.

"You say it like that would be a bad thing," Hera answered sarcastically.

"Well, in about thirty seconds, she can toss them out the airlock for all I care," he agreed as he began working the controls in preparation for reentry.

Hera snickered, and the cockpit fell silent as Kanan reached out in the force. He felt Ezra and Zeb, their anger and frustration simmering but only surface deep. It was a long-standing issue fueled by cramped conditions and extended isolation from the rest of the Galaxy. However, there were no galaxy-shattering issues between the two. Reaching out further, he felt Sabine with her own anger and confusion. Though, unlike the other two, her's were well more than surface deep- a crack in the emotional structure that made her who she was. Moving past this he felt the Ghost. He could "feel" the thrumming of the engines, every moving part, every questionable weld, every moving floorboard, and everything in between.

Then he felt it. As he reached out from the Ghost, he was surprised to find that he could not feel the planet. As he reached out with the force he was instead met with darkness... Cold... Dark... Forboding... and Calling?

 _Come hither_ , ordered a voice.

Despite the danger, Kanan continued to reach out.

"I need to find the planet," he rationalized to himself.

As he reached in, he felt overwhelming Rage. Yet, rage was only the box in which the rest was held. There was death, destruction, fear, power, and hunger... So. Much. Hunger.

 _Do not be afraid. Come forth and become one with the whole. For I am peace… I am salvation,_ The being urged.

The voice echoed through Kanan's mind. Its booming voice seemed to both command authority and offer comfort at the same time. The Jedi shook his head to clear the voice and continued reaching out. He touched objects, both foreign and familiar. Despite varying wildly in size, each one was distinctly artificial in design. He passed those over as he continued to press through the dark.

The authoritative voice faded into a barely audible whisper as he reached out deeper. Then suddenly he felt it, like one feels an object when unable to see it. He instantly turned his focus to it. The work was hard as the whispers tried pulling him away. Instantly, the Force screamed of danger. Kanan snapped to his senses in time to hear the proximity alarm scream. He barely registered Hera's nearly panicked expression as he yanked back the break-out lever.

Swirls of muted brown and orange flooded the view port as the Ghost shot into the upper atmosphere. There was a boom of thunder. Kanan pulled the control yoke and gritted his teeth the Ghost fought against both gravity and its own immense forward momentum. There was another blast. The viewport flooded with light, and the Ghost shook violently as a bolt of lightning drilled into the hull.

"This is exactly what I was afraid of," Kanan grumbled as he fought to control the ship.

"This is why you're doing the flying," Hera replied as he surveyed the readouts on her side, "I can't see anything. Until we're out of this storm, we're blind."

"In more ways than one," he shot back as he retracted his senses.

The darkness he had felt in hyperspace, was now acting like a wet blanket pressed against his face. He couldn't sense anything, it was distracting, and it was incredibly dangerous. Now, he got to do this the hard way. He had to do this as a relatively normal pilot. There was another crack of thunder and Kanan swore as he leveled off the Ghost.

"The sensors are blind, right?" he asked between maneuvers.

"Right."

"Alright. Go tell Ezra to hide his Force presence," Kanan ordered.

"What? Why?" she gasped.

"Don't worry about it," he snapped back as he brought the ghost down lower.

Suddenly, pressure alarms started screaming. Kanan hit mute and adjusted his altitude by a few meters.

"You know he's not going to do it without an explanation- at least not on my order," she argued.

"Because this place is drowning in the Darkside. Got it," he yelled.

The fear in his eyes was enough to shoot down any more of Hera's arguments. At the same time, the anger in his tone and fire in his eyes were enough to confirm his statement. Hera nodded and disappeared through the blast doors. This left Kanan alone to fight the planet for control of the Ghost. It took another ten minutes to get complete control of the Ghost. During this time, the Ghost had nearly been crushed by atmospheric pressure five more times and been hit by at least seven lightning bolts of varying intensity.

"Glad Hera had this thing hardened," he commented as the Ghost shot out past the storm.

Slowly but surely, the Ghost quit shaking. Once it became clear the immediate danger was over, Kanan wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead and focused on the next task. His eyes darted between what was left of the sensor readouts and the forward viewport. His goal was to stay within the atmosphere as long as possible. This would keep him away from anyone who had seen him enter. Given the fact that he had broken out nearly inside the planet, he was sure that he was clear. Of course, this didn't account for a quiet rivalry brewing within the bridge crew of the Chimerea.

 **(ISD Chimerea: forty minutes earlier)**

Commander Vincent was in a bitter war. It was a silent war, but a war none the less. He and at least two other officers were up for performance reviews at the end of this operation. The Captain had made the announcement five weeks ago. Two weeks later, there was a drop-in performance and Admiral Thrawn added a crucial detail. One of them was going to be getting his personal recommendation for a command position. The possible positions included postings as a bridge commander or even Captain. Literally over night, the Chimerea's battery crews, flight control stations, and sensory technicians became the most effective and most efficient in the fleet as their commanding officers fought for Thrawn's favor. That last one was where Vincent and his crew of fifty-two came in.

"Commander," called one of the station officers.

"What is it?" he asked between gulps of caf.

"There was an anomaly in sector twelve, point five-one," the Lieutenant explained.

"That's way out there," Commander Vincent answered, "Were you able to make out the cause?"

The Lieutenant gave a pointed look at the Ensign siting to his side. Clearly he didn't want his name attached to whatever the ensign was thinking. The young officer hesitated as he looked first at the Lieutenant and then the Commander. He looked at one then tossed his eyes back to the other. Vincent was growing impatient and was about to speak when the Ensign seemed to find his nerve.

"It was a hyperspace breakout," he blurted.

The Commander opened his mouth to reject the idea before closing it again. It was crazy, but not impossible.

"Explain," he ordered as he swirled the caf in his mug.

The Ensign, through much stuttering, went into an explanation of his idea. He pulled up the relevant data and crossed it with what a hyperspace breakout would look like. It was an inelegant, and overly complicated explanation, but Commander Vincent followed it just fine.

"I don't know. That seems like a long shot, but not impossible. I'll pass it along," he acknowledged with a frown.

"No need Commander. I heard," interjected Admiral Thrawn from above the crew pit.

All three men nearly jumped from their skin as they turned upward to face the towering Admiral.

"Yes, of course," the Commander recovered quickly.

That was the one thing he did not like about the Chimerea. The ship was efficiently and fairly run, but the Admiral always seemed to appear out of nowhere when least expected or wanted.

"Assume that a ship did break out and assume that it was not crushed in the gas giant's atmosphere. Get me the possible flight trajectories. Unless given different orders, that is your only priority," Thrawn ordered.

"Yes sir. However, with all due respect, shouldn't we be focusing on the Covenant fleet since they are the threat that we can see?" the Commander objected.

"The redirecting of one station is an acceptable compromise," Admiral Thrawn answered before adjusting his tone to that of a teacher correcting a wayward student, "If you wish to have my name attached to any recommendation for command, there is one thing that you must learn. It is the threats that you don't see that are the most dangerous. This is a weakness of the Navy's current officer corps, and I will not let my ship be a breeding ground for this folly."

All through the Commander wanted to protest and countermand the Admiral, he was not willing to throw his career away and thus took the only option that he had.

"Of course, sir," The Commander acknowledged with a nod.

"Good. As you were," the Admiral concluded before returning to his own duties.

 **(Surface of the Ring: Thirty minutes later)**

The Chief looked down at the crash site from his perch up in the rocks. Parts of the white, foreign ship were scattered all down the canyon. Pieces of the hull were scattered around for about a mile and a half each way. Laying in at the end of a long trench were bodies scattered among the rest of the ship's twisted remains.

"The suit's not picking anyone up. Should we see what they left behind?" Cortana suggested.

The Chief nodded as he stood up. He cast a wary look back at down the canyon. There was a half-destroyed building cut into the canyon side. Without knowing how big it was, the Chief didn't have time to clear it. As a result, he was reluctant to abandon his vantage point. However, he also couldn't sit around forever, and he was starting to run low on supplies and ammo.

"Chief, see if you can find a computer terminal. While you're picking through the remains I'll see who exactly we're sharing a giant ring with." she requested.

"I figured you knew that already," he spoke as he climbed down the rock face.

Though said in humor, there was a measure of honesty in the Chief's statement. He figured that these were the same people that he had seen blow up a cruise while he was on the Autumn's bridge.

"No, the Admiral wasn't too keen on the idea of sharing details; and I figured our survival was a bit more vital than trying to break into their system remotely," she answered with obvious annoyance.

The Chief accepted the answer with a nod as he stepped through the line of debris. Obvious cargo cases, weapons, broken metal, and other items were tossed about. Some were clearly in too bad of shape to use. However, up closer to the cargo hold, things looked promising. He mentally logged the location of a half-dozen potentially useful items and moved on up to what he assumed was the cockpit. Getting in through the hold was quickly discounted due to a lack of usable doorway.

"They came down hard enough." Cortana commented as the Chief made his way around the vehicle, "And I'm gonna guess that trio of holes along that thruster are what caused it."

"It wouldn't surprise me." the Chief answered as he walked past what appeared to be the remains of the right engine.

"The right thruster goes out, while the left one sends it into a spiral. With little to no time to correct, the ship goes skating down the creek bed," Cortana added as the Chief examined the shattered remains of the forward viewport.

"This looks like something," the Chief reported as he squeezed his way in.

Now behind him, was what looked like an access panel.

"No harm in looking." Cortana quipped as the Chief smashed the lock with the butt of his battle rifle.

'No, but there is harm in staying here for too long', the Chief thought as he started working according to the AI's instructions.

"Alright, grab you need and let's go." the AI announced after a second.

"You have everything?" The Chief asked with a raised eyebrow.

"It's their equivalent of a Pelican. Doing a systems dump wasn't that hard." Cortana explained as the Chief struggled to get back out.

The Chief didn't answer as his motion tracker chirped. A quick glance revealed 11 people closing fast. There were five coming down one edge of the canyon while six were coming down the opposite side. He quickly found a spot with decent cover and looked down his rifle sight. The Chief swore as he found himself staring at lines of thick brush and trees. Whomever they were had chosen their approach well, and, given their pace, knew he was there.

"That might be a recovery team." Cortana advised.

"You have the data. Do I trust them?" the Chief quizzed as he mentally sorted out a battle plan.

Shooting blindly into the bushes was only a good way to waste ammo. That meant that he would have to shoot as they came out, about a hundred yards back from the main crash site.

"Well this group isn't Covenant and not UNSC. So, the question is, 'Would you trust UNSC if your only information came from a Pelican's computer?'" Cortana asked in return.

"Point made," the Chief replied as he lowered his rifle, "Is there a way to reach them?"

"I did just find their tactical frequency…" she said quickly before pausing, "At least, that's I assume that's what you mean."

"Yes. Patch me in," he ordered.

"Done."

The Chief nodded before speaking into his helmet mic.

"This is UNSC Master Chief Petty Officer 1-1-7. Identify yourselves," he commanded.

All eleven red dots suddenly froze. Though, there was no immediate response.

After a few seconds, an equally authoritarian voice acknowledged, "1-1-7, this is Major Kallus, Imperial Navy. What is your intent?"

The Chief waited a few seconds to answer as he sorted through his list of options. There were many to choose from, though with varying degrees of accuracy.

"Survival. I have not hostile intent toward you or the others with you," the Chief decided on.

There were some muffled squelches garbled words through the comm. Cortana explained that they had temperately shifted coding. This allowed them to talk to each on the same channel while keeping the Chief out of the mix. Although, they were unaware that Cortana had already deciphered it letting her drop in without giving herself away.

Finally, after a minute of impatient waiting, the Chief was re-entered into the conversation.

"Alright. Let's see if we can handle this in a civilized manner. We're coming out. I'm not going to ask you to drop the weapon, but lowering it would help quite a bit." Kallus finally agreed.

The Chief's only response was to slowly lower his MA5B. He kept it at ready low as his eyes darted from group to group. He didn't actually step out from the relative cover of the ship's nose until he had secured a backup plan in case this devolved into a shooting match. However, the plan soon appeared to be of no use. The group arose from their own cover and marched down both sides of the creek. Like the Chief, their weapons were lowered but ready. Given his own stance, the Chief wasn't about to fault them for it.

He frowned as he observed the different soldiers. Ten of them could easily be divided into groups of two based on their armor color and patterns. This, the Chief did, giving each pair a number of one through five. The eleventh one was in grey body armor with a metallic colored helmet similar to the others. Inside his helmet, the Chief's helmet dropped as he caught a glimpse at the man's facial features. In the ship he had been too focused to pay attention to the dead pilots. However, here there was no missing it. The being was human. The Chief stood dumbfounded as the man, Kallus, extended his hand in cautious greeting.

"Chief," Kallus nodded, "Major Kallus and this is Misfit Squad."

The Chief blinked himself back to reality as he saw the man's arm come out. Shaking a person's hand in a Spartan suit was a delicate affair. If he was not careful, he could crush a person's hand beyond repair. However, years of practice and numerous commendations ensured that he didn't here as he grabbed Kallus's hand.

The Major gave a wry smile as he announced, "Welcome to the party."mile as he announced, "Welcome to the party."


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey, everyone! Well, it's taken forever, but I finally have a new chapter.**

 **However, fair warning: The person gets reading my chapters is unavailable for a n indeterminate amount of time. I am posting this with the expectation that it will be changed after he/she reads it. That said, there shouldn't be any plot related changes.**

 **So, without further ado, I give you chapter 7...**

* * *

 **(Reaper Assault Craft: Thirty minutes later)**

The Chief sat uncomfortably amongst the foreign humans. No words were exchanged but clear looks of unspoken suspicion flew. None of them were given to him. The Chief sat in silent surprise as bitter glances were traded between the unhelmeted humans. More than once the Chief opened his mouth to ask about it. Each time, he quickly thought better of it. There was something in their eyes, especially those of A'den, that silenced his questions.

The Chief was careful to disable his external helmet mic before asking Cortana, "Was there anything on that ship about our 'Misfit Squad'?"

"Umm… Names… Faces… 'Formed by Governor Saxon with joint authorization from the Imperial Security Bureau and Imperial Navy.' Nothing more. Using what I got, I could try to break into their fleet's main systems. Chances are, any useful information is sealed in there. However, there is no guarantee that you won't be found out," Cortana slowly answered.

"See what you can get. If you think you'll raise alarms, quit. I don't need an incident," he ordered quietly.

"It maybe too late to avoid an incident. I'm patching through an exchange. It's on going, but everything you'll hear is about ten seconds old," Cortana announced quickly.

"I don't-"

"Listen," she commanded.

The Chief didn't respond as another voice cut in.

"This is Commander Jade Corso calling all UNSC officers. I wish to coordinate our efforts with those of the Autumn's survivors. Please respond… I repeat, 'This is Commander Jade Corso calling any-"

"This is Major Silva, UNSC Marine Corps. Who are you with, and how the hell did you get on this channel?" demanded a second voice.

The Chief's blood ran cold. Major Silva was the last person he wanted conducting diplomacy with an unknown faction.

"I'm with the Imperial Stormtrooper Corps. You're a hard man to reach Major Silva. You can thank one 'Sergeant Johnson' for opening a line of communication," Commander Corso announced.

The Chief's first reaction was silent, fierce denial. The next reaction was a cold shiver as he picked up the purr in Commander Corso's voice. He didn't know how the information was given out, but he was sure his friend had not given the codes willingly.

Major Silva clearly came to a similar conclusion as the Chief, "If you laid so much as a finger on him, I swear to God-"

"No one has so much as breathed on them," Corso interrupted, "I'm not looking for a fight. In case you haven't noticed, we're both caught on the wrong side of a Covenant blockade."

"I've noticed," Silva growled.

"Unless I'm mistaken somehow, we are in a position to help each other survive," Commander Corso added.

"You know, I think it's more about what you guys need. We're making out just fine," the Major countered smuggly.

"That's not what recon's been telling me. They tell me that your landing's been quite the bloody mess. They also tell me that you're in absolutely no position to rescue your CO, the Captain," Corso fired back.

"And you are?" Major Silva retorted.

A tense silence dominated the channel. As he waited for the next shot, the Chief looked out to see the Mandalorians were still semi-relaxed with their helmets off. The only one with a helmet on, and consequently, staring at him was Major Kallus. His hand was slowly finding its way to the pistol grip of his rifle. It was clear that the Chief wasn't the only one listening to the conversation. It was also clear that he wasn't the only one expecting the two sides to come to blows.

"Major, let's try this again," Commander Corso began calmly, "We have common problems. We have a common enemy. I have heavy, medium, and light armor. I have assault craft and I have troops. From what I gather, you are in a similar boat. Like you, I am out gunned. Uniting won't change that. However, greater numbers will increase our chance of survival. Perhaps we can work something out."

Again there was silence, and the Chief locked eyes with Major Kallus.

"Alright, your point's been made," the Major reluctantly answered, "What do you need to get over here?"

"I need ships. I have more men than surviving craft," Commander Corso declared.

"It'll take time, but I can get a few over there," Major Silva agreed.

Both Kallus and the Chief relaxed as the tension in the conversation lowered. The Chief continued to listen but now with only half an ear.

"Sixty seconds," bellowed the crew chief.

The screaming of the engines took a lower note as the craft glided into a narrow valley. Around him, the Mandalorians put on their helmets and secured their weapons. The Chief followed suit as the loading ramp descended to meet the rapidly rising ground.

Agent Kallus was already three steps down the ramp by the time the officer could begin waving everyone out. The Chief froze at the bottom of the ramp as a sea of white turned toward him.

"I was able to pull some more detailed information on this operation," Cortana announced.

"And?"

"And tread carefully. 'Major Kallus' is really Agent Kallus, an intelligence officer, and the politics behind this operation are complicated. There is a very real chance of things going hot between the Mandalorians and Imperials," Cortana warned.

"The Mandalorians don't look like they're on good terms, either," the Chief observed.

"Notice that I said the politics were 'complicated'," Cortana confirmed.

The Chief nodded as he watched two men march out of the formation of troops. Inside the Chief's helmet, Cortana quickly put names to the two troopers.

She concluded with calming breath, "Here we go."

The officer with the orange paldron spoke first, "Hello, Chief. I'm Commander Corso, this is Governor Saxon."

"'Governor?'" the Chief questioned.

"Don't let the title fool you. I've been running ops since before you were born," Saxon spoke up with pride.

The Chief seriously doubted the man's claim. However, he had more pressing matters.

"Where's Sergeant Johnson?" he demanded as he stepped up to the two men.

Every non-Mandalorian in the line, and Governor Saxon, took two uneasy steps back as the Chief's fists balled. Only a wave of Corso's hand kept their blasters lowered. Across from them, the Chief was prepared to leave the place a bloody wasteland if that's what it took to get an answer. Luckily, that wasn't required.

"Easy, Chief. Judging by your question, you heard the conversation between me and Major Silva. So, let me lay it straight. I did nothing to him. I don't know where he or the other two guys are at. I just know they're around here," Corso answered as he waved his arms in a sweeping gesture.

The Chief tilted his head. He didn't believe the man, but he was curious about what kind of B.S. the Commander was trying to weave together as his story. It also, gave the Spartan time to consider his options.

"You know, that man might be telling the truth… I think. In theory what he's saying is possible," Cortana spoke up as Corso explained his plan.

"But…"

"But, from my limited knowledge, this is also a military that could teach ONI a thing or two about affective lying," Cortana added with the audible equivalent of a shrug.

"So, what's my best tactical option?" the Chief asked as one hand wrapped around the pistol grip of his rifle.

"Wait," Cortana answered, "Even if you survived the seven-hundred men who have you in their crosshairs, I doubt Sergeant Johnson or his squad would survive."

"Why?" the Chief asked as he nodded at the necessary points in the Commander's explanation.

"Just trust me. It's what I found in the Commander's service record. I'll show you later," Cortana answered urgently.

"Understood," the Chief agreed before acknowledging the Commander who had now finished.

"Alright. I'm not picking up his IFF tag. That's a problem. If he's alive and around, it should show," the Chief warned.

"How far out are those tags good for? Ours only reach a few hundred yards," Saxon quizzed.

The annoyance in his voice was clear. It was obvious that he wasn't nearly as intimidated as the Commander.

"Cortana?" the Chief asked inside his helmet.

"Ours are about the same. It is possible that he pulled back after he was called out. That's basic recon procedure. Intel becomes suspect once you've been made," Cortana quickly replied.

The Chief nodded before turning his attention back to the duo.

"Let me try something," he offered.

Cortana quickly caught what he was doing and switched the comm frequencies.

"If he's out there, he'll hear you," she declared.

The Chief nodded again as he called out, "Sergeant Johnson, this is Sierra 117. What's your status, over?"

There was a second of static feedback. The Chief was about to advance on the first unlucky officer, when a voice crackled in.

"This is Sergeant Johnson. We're green. I have a visual on the crowd," he replied gruffly.

"Good. Things are quiet, but it's getting lonely down here," the Chief reported.

"Understood. We'll be there in three," Sergeant Johnson concluded.

The Chief visibly relaxed as the channel went dead. Apparently, they had been telling the truth. The Commander just lacked any kind of tact. The Chief allowed a thin smile. This was going to make things interesting with the Major.

 **(The Ghost: high orbit)**

Kanan caught his breath as the ring came into view. He had seen the Imperial images, but like Thrawn, he was of the mind that they did the structure no justice. Beyond the ring was an equally impressive array of ships. Much to Kanan's surprise, they weren't the source of the darkside presence. They were dangerous. Malice and hostility radiated out from the fleet. However, they weren't causing darkness that he had felt in hyperspace. No. It was the ring.

Kanan's focus was broken as the cockpit door hissed open.

"Are we- Whoa!" Ezra gasped as his eyes glued to the forward viewport, "So, that's why we're here."

"Yes," Kanan confirmed as he looked down at the datapad in his hand.

"What's that?" Ezra inquired.

"It's a list. Take it to Sabine and see what she knows about it," he ordered as he passed back the data pad.

"What's this… Names?" Ezra asked as he scanned the list.

"Ya, a list of Mandalorians so important that Fulcrum thought it would be a good idea to break his silence and send it," Kanan confirmed.

Ezra's eyes widened in time with a gasp. Understanding the implications, he spun around and raced back through the Ghost. With one hand holding the pad in a death grip, he ignored the access ladder in favor of leaping down, nearly ran over Hera; did an awkward spin around Rex in the adjoining passage; and stumbled into the main gathering area. There, at the table, Sabine looked up from her disassembled blaster on the table.

"Is there something I can do for you?" she asked with a scowl.

"Yes. Fulcrum broke radio silence less than five hours ago to send this," Ezra declared as he handed over the data pad.

Sabine took it as boot steps echoed down the passage.

"Did I hear that Fulcrum broke his silence?" Zeb asked as he lumbered into the room.

"Yes, you did," she confirmed before turning to Ezra, "What does Kanan want?"

"He wants to know who you know on this list?" Ezra answered matter-of-factly.

"I'll talk to him myself…" She paused as she snapped the remaining pieces of her blaster together, "You guys stay here."

With that, she disappeared up the passage Ezra had raced down.

 **(ISD CHIMEREA)**

The woman felt peace. Nestled within the confines of her own metal coffin, she re-lived moments of her childhood. She wasn't a woman placed into a medically induced coma. She was a five year-old organizing a "spy ring". She was a four year-old eating dinner with her mother and father. She was a twenty year-old enjoying rest and relaxation on Reach. The woman was relishing in the glory of successfully drinking another arrogant jackass under the table. Later, she was running through grassy plains with the warm sun to keep her company. After that the lady was enjoying a nice, non-mre, meal under the shade of an evergreen. Unfortunately for Linda, everyone has to wake up some time.

The grassy hillside faded away in a mist of black. The Spartan felt her heart race as disorientation set in. Disorientation gave way to an equally blinding pain as she twisted around in her metal coffin. She let out a pained cry. As the world materialized before her, Linda felt a sharp pain as someone plunged a needle in her neck. Even as she reflexively swatted at the offender, her movements were slowing. She had just enough time to step up into a sitting position and lock eyes with a red eyed, blue skinned alien, before her eyes rolled back and the world went black again.

* * *

Admiral Thrawn watched as the woman dropped back into a state of sleep. He took a step to the side as two more medics raced by with a hover-stretcher. He may not have been a doctor, but it was obvious the woman wasn't doing well. For the next five minutes he listened intently as the medic barked out orders. This was overlaid by multiple rounds of swearing and more than one dumbfounded question.

"What the seven hells did she do?" was the Corellian most commonly asked question.

However, what really peaked Thrawn's interest was the act of moving the woman. After several failed attempts to lift the unconscious soldier, the medic let out a groan that was about as pained as it was annoyed.

"Alright, get a cutting torch and a cargo droid. Put a heavy stretcher it, and get some lift gear over here," the medic ordered.

The medic watched a half-dozen deckhands take off before turning to the Admiral.

"Badly injured?" Thrawn verified.

"That's putting it mildly. She's got extensive burns, probably plasma based. If we can get her into a bacta tank, she should be ok, though. Sir, it's going to be a while before I can get you anything," the medic explained as he wiped the sweat from his brow.

Admiral Thrawn tilted his head as he looked past the doctor and at the cryo tube. Even as he slowly responded, the Admiral's mind was racing. He picked apart every detail, from the woman's severely burned face and light blue armor, to the geometric, grey tube she had arrived in. When Admiral Thrawn turned for the bridge, he was already putting the pieces in their proper places.

"Admiral, Commander Corso reported in while you were in the hangar," the Captain reported as he passed over a datapad,"Also, those trajectories got mapped."

Admiral Thrawn raised an eyebrow, "Already?"

"Yes sir. He thought it would be vital to your decision making going forward," the Captain answered quickly.

Admiral Thrawn nodded and dismissed the Captain before reading over the report. As he read, he shook his head. The loss of the A-6 was going to cost them. The gear packed in there wasn't easy to replace in their current situation. The Commander was doing a serviceable job regrouping his forces. It was nothing commendation worthy, but it was enough to counterbalance his early round of losses. However, given the scenario, Thrawn was wishing he had handled things with the UNSC better. The Admiral continued reading on with interest.

"So the Jedi rear their heads again," Admiral Thrawn muttered with obvious disgust.

He hastily typed out a message and handed it over the the communications officer.

"Captain," he called.

"Yes sir," the Captain answered crisply as he hurried over.

"Make preparations to withdraw from the system. I have dispatched a message to our forces on the surface. As soon as the answer arrives, we will make our next move," Admiral Thrawn ordered.

"Withdraw?" the Captain gasped, "We've taken losses, but-"

"But we can do nothing from our current position. We are not retreating, we're resetting. I will brief you as required," Admiral Thrawn interrupted.

"Yes Admiral," the Captain conceded as he swallowed his objections.

 **(Surface of the ring: 1 hour earlier)**

"So, that's where us and bucket-head come in. Someone has to escort the armor," Sergeant Johnson concluded as he let out a puff from his cigar.

Commander Corso wrinkled his nose at the smell as he looked over at the Mandalorian. It didn't take much to imagine the bitter look hiding behind the white and red helmet.

"Yes. I'm gonna go out on a limb and say that your dropships aren't equipped to lift those walkers, and I can say for sure that our remaining ones can't," Corso confirmed as he turned to the Staff Sergeant.

Sergeant Johnson scratched his forehead and glanced back at the map. After that, he turned to the Chief with a shrug.

"Well, how do you feel about a fifteen mile road march?" he asked with a tired grin.

"Feels like another day in paradise," the Chief deadpanned.

Johnson nodded and turned to Corso.

"We'll do it, but you owe us," Sergeant Johnson agreed.

Corso gave a dejected sigh as he put on his helmet.

"I have a feeling that we'll all be even by the time this is over. Tristan has lead," he concluded before adding, "Pro tip: Don't call Mandalorians 'bucketheads', unless you are looking to end your own life."

With that, Commander Corso removed himself from the conversation. Sergeant Johnson gave Tristan a sharp glare. Tristan responded by holding his hands out in a placating shrug. As Corso disappeared into a group of lower ranking officers, Tristan shuffled his feet and shrugged. Behind his helmet, the young officer's eyes darted back and forth between the Sergeant and his giant friend.

"I'll get the rest of the men together. I wanna reach Alpha Base by dark," Tristan announced as he tapped his fingers on the barrel of his blaster.

Johnson nodded and Tristan took off. On cue, the mechanical whine of servos reached the group. Looking back, Sergeant Johnson and the Chief watched as the pilots cautiously maneuvered their vehicles out of the tunnel and into the the assembly area on the other side.

"Well, they aren't gonna protect themselves," Sergeant Johnson declared as he turned for the tunnel.

The Chief followed behind silently. The rest of the UNSC squad intercepted them in the tunnel.

"Damn, those things are massive," Li observed with awe.

"Let's hope they aren't as top heavy as they look," Mendez added cynically.

"Ya, I heard that they got their asses handed to them on the pass," added another Marine as they came to a stop in the middle of the formation. Waiting there was Tristan and another Mandalorian who he didn't identify.

"The lopsided body count would say differently," Tristan cut in.

"What's the plan?" Sergeant Johnson quizzed, cutting off any argument before it could start.

He knew the Marine in question, and once the kid got his mouth running, there was no stopping it.

"Chief, I'm assuming you're an SSO," Tristan started.

"SSO?" the Chief asked with a tilted head.

"Self-Sustained Operator," the other Mandalorian clarified.

Johnson snickered, "That's one, accurate way to describe him."

"Alright, We'll space out across the front and sides. Squads will periodically trade rear guard, that way no one is stuck doing the whole march at an odd angle. Sergeant Johnson, do you have any snipers in your squad?" Tristan explained quickly as he pointed to various spots around the armored formation.

"Yes."

"Good. The AT-ATs have a rear firing port. I want your sniper on overwatch in the rear one. Sergeant Johnson, you and the rest of your men will fill the gaps in the line. Chief, you'll stay inside the arch and, in the event of a firefight, fill in where needed… wait… no… Chief, I want you… for- No… I have Misfit Squad for that…" Tristan stuttered as different scenarios rushed through is brain.

Sergeant Johnson looked once at the Chief, and once at Tristan before rolling his eyes.

"Hey, kid," he called, interrupting Tristan's second guessing, "Take it from someone who's done this before, your plan was solid until about thirty seconds ago. Now I don't think God himself could make a decision over the sound of your gears grinding. Lose the helmet... Smoke a joint.. I don't care. Just relax and go with the first plan. The Chief will stay in the arch, and we'll reinforce your flanks. Misfit will support the front."

Tristan paused as he considered the man's words. He, then, let out a calming breath.

"Alright. Let's fall in and move out," Tristan agreed crisply.

"Best words I've heard all day," Johnson mumbled to the Chief.

With a new found sense of purpose, man and machine fell into formation and took off for their destination. Yard by yard, the group left Commander Corso and the rest of his men behind. More than once, Sergeant Johnson looked upward to see a dropship- UNSC or Imperial- roar overhead.

"Air traffic is picking up," Tristan observed over the command frequency.

"I didn't realize we were that scattered," replied one of the AT-AT commanders, "These guys are comin' from all over the place."

Sergeant Johnson silently listened but didn't speak as his eyes criss crossed his area of responsibility. Under Tristan's order, the chatter quickly faded into total silence. Soon, the dominating sound was the mechanical whine of servos. As annoying as it was, the size of the vehicles gave the sound an oddly comforting quality. Johnson almost felt like he was the one being escorted, instead of the other way around. Of course, that mattered little when it was coupled with a periodic, ground shaking thump that he knew all too well. More than once, the Staff Sergeant found his mind drifting back to the scarabs he had seen on previous planets and a shudder coursed through his body.

The escort detail fell into a semi-comfortable pace as time marched on. Both sides paid each other little mind as they followed the narrow path.

 **(100 miles Southeast of Alpha Base)**

Captain Norick shifted positions carefully. Under him, sharp, loose rock dug into his knees. Despite his ever going discomfort, the Captain was selective on his moves. One bad move would send a cascade of rock down the slope. While it wouldn't take him with it, the noise would give him away quickly. As a scout, his ability to stay hidden was a matter both survival and personal pride.

Slowly marching up the hill was the group in question. Five men in dark green fatigues escorted to officers in white uniforms. The older of the two was positively identified as Captain Keys. The second one was an unknown junior officer that was seriously rubbing on Norick's nerves.

Norick shifted his gaze up from the group of humans currently tracking. Overhead, a purple craft came around in a wide, lazy circle. While the captain couldn't quite just the ship's height, he doubted it was making a move to attack. There was no change in speed or altitude as the craft made round after round.

He frowned. There was little chance that he or his squad had been spotted. Their uniforms would blend well with the shale at longer distances. Of course that assumed that the craft wasn't using thermal imaging. Captain Norick shook his head.

"'Leave what you can't control,'" he muttered before activating his helmet comm, "Keep your heads on a swivel. Skies are getting crowded."

"Roger that, I see him," replied one of the other scouts, Tori, before shifting topics, "Our resident windbag finally shut up."

"She finally quit complaining?" Norick asked.

"Ya, but I don't like how it ended. It ended with the captain threatening to leave her behind," Tori reported.

"I would too," Norick countered, "Hardly a threat."

"No, but her language took a dangerous turn toward desertion and treachery," Tori added, "That's what spurred it."

Captain Norick scowled at the distant group of survivors. Of course it couldn't be as simple as someone learning when to quit.

After a couple seconds, he asked "You think she'll sell out?"

"Frankly, I wouldn't put it past her," Tori confirmed sharply.

"I've gotta clean shot if we want to relieve the captain of some dead weight," offered a third scout further out along the ridge.

"I've got a better idea. When she gets cut loose- and, mark my words, it will happen- we could grab her; squeeze her for intel; then make our wayward officer disappear," Tori suggested.

Captain Norick considered his options. While option one was tempting, number two had the greatest chance of helping them in the long run.

"Let's keep our option open. Until then, let's move out. They're turning away," he ordered as he watched the Pillar of Autumn's captain march off to the east, further away from the recon team.

 **(CAS Seeker of Truth)**

Thel entered the bridge to little fan fair. The Grunts and their Elite officers worked silently to keep the ship running and ensure that operations ran smoothly. He nodded his approval and silently stared out at the opposing fleet.

When he did, the faintest of shivers ran down his spine. The enemy fleetmaster was quiet. His ships fell into defensive positions. Their fighters no longer harassed the picket lines. Of course that last part may have simply been done out of necessity. After losing a couple hundred, Thel Vadamee couldn't imagine them having that many left. Something was wrong. He could feel it in his bones.

He opened his mouth to order another attack. Yet no sound came out of his mouth, as he reconsidered the enemy position. He had identified what he believed to be the flag of this fleet. "Chimerea Control" her flight commanders had called it. Stationed around the Chimerea were the rest of the ships, with one really big hole… a battlecruiser shaped hole.

"He learns fast," the Fleetmaster noted.

He put the idea out of his head, and moved onto the next order of business. The hill had fallen, much how Vadamee had predicted. The human forces had stormed the hill and used the one blind spot in the structure's defenses to scale the hill and face them on even footing. Of course the Covenant hadn't simply let them have it, but human loses weren't nearly high enough. He needed to hit these humans and hit them hard. His troops needed to regain the initiative if this operation were to succeed. Thel marched across the bridge to a holomap. It was at that time that another Elite approached him.

"Fleetmaster, reconnaissance flights have picked up an armored force marching southeast out of the mountains," the Elite reported as he keyed up the location.

"How big?" Thel demanded quickly.

"Five of their legged beasts, eight of their smaller craft and a contingent of infantry," he answered crisply.

Thel's mind kicked into overdrive. This was it. This was the chance he needed. The last remaining threat to the Truth and Reconciliation, and by extension, his ground operations was marching out in the open. He knew that road from the reports. They would have their pick of attack points. Of course, then there was the question of who to send. The Prophet had stripped him of the most capable officers. That is, all except one.

"Recall Commander Rtas. I have a new mission," Thel ordered.

"But fleetmaster, what of the rescue?" the Elite protested.

"His death or survival matters little in this situation. The ring must be secured. Recall the Commander and prepare an assault force," he ordered with a dismissive wave.

"Yes Fleetmaster," the Elite acknowledged.

While he didn't like the idea of abandoning a Prophet, minor or not, he did know his place and acted accordingly.


End file.
